Tale of a Savior
by Swordsman289
Summary: This is the tale of the extraordinary actions of Task Force 141 soldier, Cpl. John "Savior" Ramirez. Will he and his new regiment be able to stop an imminent war? T for blood, swearing, and war-like violence. AU
1. Transfered

A/N: This story is going to tell the tale of a brother of one of my Original Characters. I will be altering the plot of MW2 a little bit, changing character deaths, etc. There are going to be refernces to two of my stories.

* * *

Corporal John Ramirez was a man that seeks adventure. He was waiting for this kind of event to happen in his life. He sat on a bus bench, feeling every bump that the bus drove over. He looked through the window on his right and saw the pine trees go by. It made him feel a little relaxed. He wasn't the only one in the bus; there was an African American that was seated two seats ahead of him; a black-haired Caucasian man that seated next to the African American; and a light brown-haired Caucasian man that was seated in the opposite column, next to Ramirez. They were all hand-picked by General Shepherd to join his special ops team, called Task Force 141. John ran his hand through his dark brown hair, then rested the side of his head against the window and closed his eyes, recapping on how this happened.

* * *

Five days ago…

John was pacing around his apartment, worried that he won't get his acceptance letter or if he will get rejected. There were two other men in his apartment. One was tall—taller than the two men—oldest of the men, light brown hair, dark brown eyes, and was in the U.S. Marine Corp. The other man was slightly taller than John, very young, black dyed hair, light brown eyes, and was in the U.S. Army Rangers. His brothers, Pvt. James Ramirez and Sgt. Louis Ramirez, were watching him, amused and annoyed at his worried state. All three were on a short leave.

"John…would you quit being all stressed out about this?" Louis asked, somewhat annoyed, "Shepherd said that the confirmation letter was sent out. It will come."

John looked over his shoulder and replied, "Shut up, Louis, this is the most important thing in my life. I want to know if I'm in or not."

James shook his head and said, "Leave him alone, Louis. He has the right to be worried, and look who's talking: you were equally worried when you were waiting for that Warp-Drive training confirmation letter."

* * *

**A/N: The warp-drive mentioned above is a reference to my other story. If you read it, then you should get it.**

* * *

Louis rubbed the back of his head, somewhat embarrassed. NASA and the U.S. Air Force were developing a spacecraft that would be able to jump to different galaxies. Louis volunteered for the test, and he recently got the order papers that allowed him to do the test flight. His training was supposed to start three months from now. He then looked at the front door and saw a letter slid under the door. "Hey John, you got a letter."

John ran towards the door and picked the envelope up. He hastily tore it open and pulled out a letter. On the top right corner was a stamp, a circle with a spade in the middle, a sword that goes through the middle of the spade, wings on both sides of the sword, a skull on top of the hilt, and two wreaths on either side of the sword, bordering the inside of the circle. John read its contents and cried out in joy.

"Oh hell yeah, I got accepted!" John cried out in joy.

Louis did a playful slap to John's back and congratulated him. "Good job, little bro! You're going to be one of the best of the best in the world, and you'll be fighting alongside many like that!"

"Hooah!" James grunted, "You're going to be in the elites, just like me!"

John looked at James and gave him a brisk nod. Even though James was the youngest child in the family, James was already in the Army Rangers. The family was proud of James's accomplishment.

Then the door opened and a woman ran in. She was a 2nd Lt. in the Army Nurse Corp. She had light brown/blonde hair and light brown eyes. She took a few breaths and asked, "Did I miss it?"

John looked behind him, and smiled that his sister was here to see him. "No you didn't, Kat. I got accepted into Task Force 141!"

Katrina Ramirez gave out a little shriek of joy, walked up and gave her younger brother a hug. "Oh, I'm so proud of you! You're going to do great things, John!" She then released her hug and stepped back a bit. "So, when are you going to leave?"

John looked at the letter and replied, "I have to fly to Britain in four days. Then I have to take the bus with other recruits to the base."

"Who's your commanding officer?" Louis asked.

"Um…I think it's…Captain MacTavish."

"Really? Wow…I was with him in Russia. The Marine Force Recon had a joint op with the SAS, which was hunting down Zakhaev. MacTavish and I were the only survivors of the attack team. I saw him kill Imran Zakhaev on the bridge, and the Loyalists gave us a lift out of there," Louis replied, "However…I don't know what happened to the Captain, Price."

"Is MacTavish…strict or a hardcore soldier?"

"Well if you're wondering if he'll be like the Drill Sergeant you had in Boot Camp…kind of. He takes orders very seriously, but he still cares about his troops."

John gave out a sigh of relief. "Well, at least I know that he won't send us all to our doom on purpose." They all laugh about his comment, then John then added, "Well, I need to pack up, care to help me?"

* * *

John opened his eyes and rested his back against the bench. Before that letter, he was just a Marine, just like Louis. Now, he's part of an elite Special Ops team.

It was too quiet; all John could hear was the wheels spinning and the engine accelerating. He looked towards his left and looked at the light brown-haired man. He too was bored. _Maybe I should start a conversation?_

John turned to his left and greeted the man, "Hey, my name's John Ramirez. You?"

The man turned to him and remained silent for a few moments, then replied, "I'm Gary Sanderson." He then extended out his hand. John took it and shook it. "I'm a Sergeant, you?"

"Corporal. So we're going to be in the same team?"

"Yeah…hey wait a minute; don't you have a brother named Louis?" Gary asked.

"Yes, sir; Sgt. Louis Ramirez is my brother."

"So he _is _going to do that test flight?"

"Yep…so when do you think we're going to get there?"

"We'll probably get there in half-an-hour. Hey, I heard that the new recruits come up with a nickname when they reach the base. I'm stumped, but do you have one?"

John gave it a thought for a moment, then he replied, "I don't know…maybe Savior."

"Why?"

"Well, I saved one of my high school classmates; I pushed her out of the way of a speeding car, and took the hit. I had a broken hip for 6 months, but everyone started calling me Savior for what I did."

Then the two soldiers that were sitting two rows in front turned around and looked like they wanted to join in.

The African American was the first one to speak. "Hey, I heard that your brother is the guy that's going to test out the new Warp-Drive." Then he rubbed the back of his head and continued, "Oh I'm sorry, where are my manners; my name is Ben and I'm a Corporal, but everybody in my neighborhood called me Meat."

Gary looked at him stunned, "Why Meat?"

"I ate a lot of meat when I lived with my family. My father was a butcher and he always brought home some steak for ever meal."

"Oh I get it," John admitted. He looked towards the other man and asked, "So what's your name?"

"Name's Alex and I am a Sergeant, just like your friend there. I knew Meat back when we were kids. We lived in the same neighborhood for years until I went to college. My nickname is Royce."

Gary raised an eyebrow. "Your nickname is Royce because of the Rolls-Royce car series?" Gary asked.

"Hell yeah," Alex admitted. "My father gave me one, best car of my life. So Gary, you got a nickname?"

"Not yet, but I'll probably come up with something when we get there."

They talked for the rest of the ride, getting to know each other better. Each person had their own unique story; John told of his 15 years of Martial Arts training, Gary told about the camping trips he would take his family to, Ben talked about his accomplishment in a hotdog eating contest, and Alex told about a street race he won in his Rolls-Royce…and the time he spent in jail for it.

Soon they reached the base. It was somewhat heavily defended; barb wired and concertino wired fences, heavily guarded checkpoints, guard towers, etc. It was separated from any sign of civilization. No sign of a skyscraper for miles. Once John stepped out of the bus, carrying his duffle bag, he took a deep breath of the air. It smelled crisp and clean. He loved it. When all four men were standing at attention, an officer stood in front of the checkpoint. He was just as tall as Gary, which was 6' 1''. He had light brown hair and had blue eyes. He wore an officer uniform with many medals and ribbons. On his chest was the silver-enameled bar of the 1st Lieutenant. He also wore a red beret. Then, two more troops appeared, probably to search through their bags for anything that's contraband.

"Welcome, glad to see you men made it," he introduced. He had a somewhat British accent and he sounded a rather lively man, since he accented on his words. "I'm going to start the roll call, confirm that everyone's here. Meanwhile, these troops will search through your bags for any unnecessary belongings." The troops commenced their search and the officer started roll call. "Sergeant Alex Wolfe?"

"Here, sir, just call me Royce." The troops found nothing conspicuous in his bag.

"Good, you're clean Royce. Corporal Benjamin Forest?"

"Here, sir, I'm called Meat." The troops didn't find anything either.

The Lt. stopped at Meat and cocked his head. "And why's that?"

Meat felt a bit nervous. "I-I ate meat in all of my meals when I was a kid, s-sir…" he stammered.

The Lt. gave out a small chuckle. "Relax, soldier, I'm actually kind of amused. I might tell the Captain about it, he might have a kick out of it." Meat's tension in his shoulders was gone and he felt a bit relaxed. "Okay…Sergeant Gary Sanderson?"

"Here, sir." His bag was clean.

The Lt. stopped in front of Gary and asked, "Don't have a nickname?"

Gary felt a bit embarrassed. "Um…not yet, sir."

"Don't worry; I'm sure you'll find something. Corporal John Ramirez?"

"Here, sir." His bag, too, was clean. "Just call me…Savior."

"Hmm...you saved someone's life in the past?" John nodded. "Really? I wonder if you'll live up to that name. Wait, aren't you the brother of that Warp-Drive test pilot?" John nodded again. "Well, tell him good luck in his training. Anyway, I'm your second in command. I'm Lt. Simon Riley, and if the Captain isn't in the area, you report to me, understand?"

"Sir, yes sir!" all four recruits barked at once.

"Today is a free day for you recruits. Dinner is at 1800 hours, which is in three hours. Till then, I want you to go the barracks and find your bunks. The barracks have two bathrooms each, but they're large and, since we're all men, I expect that you're comfortable about that. I also want you to get acquainted with the other soldiers."

"Sir, yes sir!"

"Tomorrow is when you start your training. You will be awakened at 0600 hours, training starts immediately after that, and breakfast is at 0900 till 1030. Training resumes after that. Dismissed!"

Together, they went to the barracks on the east side of the base. It was fairly large; it was able to shelter over 100 men. They saw other men training in the fields, and the gun range was filled with troops. John saw an array of weapons that were in the crates: M4 Carbines, SCAR-H assault rifles, Mp5k and UMP45 submachine guns, M9 pistols, and—his personal favorites—ACR assault rifles and M21 ERB sniper rifles. John couldn't wait to have his two favorite weapons back on his hands. The four managed to find bunks inside the barracks. They placed their belongings in their lockers and decided to take a tour around the base.

* * *

A/N: So how did I do? Please tell me in your reviews.


	2. First Good Impressions

"So where do you want to go first, guys?" Meat asked as they walked around base.

"How about the gun range?" Royce suggested, "I know that today's a free day for us, but I want to see what kind of firearms they have."

Gary thought about it for a brief moment, and then he replied, "I'm game. Also, I want to see if we can shoot a few rounds." He then turned to John and asked, "You game?"

John gave a shrug and replied, "Sure."

The four walked towards the gun range. It was still full of troops when they got there. The four stopped behind the safety line and saw a Staff Sergeant barking at the troops.

"That's the worst shooting I've ever seen!" the Staff Sergeant yelled, "If any of you maggots' points are lower than 90, all of you will run around the compound!" He then looked behind him and saw the four. "Continue on, I need to take care of something." He then walked towards the four, who saluted when he was standing before them. The Staff Sergeant returned the salute and said, "At ease. I'm SSgt. Avery "Archer" Combs. I see that all of you are our new FNGs."

Meat leaned towards Royce and whispered, "What does FNG mean?"

Royce looked at him, dumbfounded. "You don't know?" Royce asked, stupefied. Meat shook his head. "We're the Friggin' New Guys."

"Oh…"

"What can I do for you FNGs?" Archer asked, suspiciously.

John stepped forward and replied, "We just want to see the gun range, sir. Gary, on the other hand, was wondering if we could fire off a few rounds, sir."

Archer thought about it for a brief moment, then replied, "Well, I want to see how good you guys are at the range…sure." He then faced the troops in the gun range and barked, "Make room! We're going to see the FNGs shoot!"

A slot was quickly emptied, as the troops were anticipating what would happen. Most of them were betting with each other, thinking that the four will do horribly. Gary was the first one to go up, since he was the one that wanted to fire off a few rounds. He grabbed an M4A1 Carbine and slammed a magazine into the receiver.

"You're good to go," Archer announced.

The target was human shaped. The inner-center and the head were 10 points, outer center was 9 points, and then every other two slots were 7, 5, 3, and so on. Gary pulled the charging lever, released it, and turned off the safety. He braced the butt of the gun with his shoulder, and then opened fired. He used short control bursts, and soon he ran out of ammo in the magazine.

"Weapon's clear!" Gary announced.

Archer entered the range and studied the target. "Okay…your score is…158! You did better than the troops here!" There were "oohs" and "awes" in the crowd. Archer put up a new target, got out of the range and yelled, "Next!" Meat walked and picked up an Mp5k submachine gun. There were snickers within the crowd, thinking that Meat would do horribly, since the Mp5k has a lot of recoil. Meat slammed a magazine in the receiver and waited for Archer's orders. "You're good to go!"

Meat opened fire. He also used short, controlled bursts. He used Mp5ks before, so he had excellent control of the weapon. Once he ran out of ammo, he turned the safety on and yelled, "Weapon's clear!"

Archer did the same and studied the target. "Hmm…125 points, not bad!" There were murmurs of shock throughout the crowd. Archer put a fresh new target, returned and yelled, "Next!" Royce then took his turn. He took a M4A1 Carbine and slammed a new magazine. "You're good to go!"

Royce then opened fired. Unlike the previous two, Royce used a full automatic mode. However, he had excellent control over the weapon. Seconds later, he was clear. "Weapon's clear!" Royce yelled.

Archer then examined the nearly destroyed target. "Holy crap…I can't even get a definite score here," Archer admitted, "My best guess…179! Not bad for full automatic." He then changed targets for the last time. He walked up to John and said, "Let's see what you can do."

John nodded and walked up to the range. He picked up an ACR rifle, the rifle he was best at. John took a deep breath, and exhaled. _Come on John…you're the last to go…I need to _REALLY _impress them. What was the lesson that Louis taught me when I joined the USMC?_

* * *

Two years and four months ago…

John just had joined the Marines. He and his brothers were at their parents' home. He walked up to Louis and asked, "Do you have any tips for me, Louis? I mean…you're a Marine yourself. Can you give me any advice?"

Louis reached for a chair, placed a chair before John, sat down on it and replied, "Well…when I was fighting with the SAS, I used the ability to use adrenaline fully. You know…become a super-soldier on the field."

"How do you do that?" John asked curious.

"Hmm…well it's hard to explain," Louis admitted, "I know that if you're facing death, you get a surge of adrenaline. However, I believe fear would resist the flow of adrenaline that's in your blood, so you can't use the adrenaline to the max. I believe that if you accept that you could die, the adrenaline would flow smoothly. If you use the adrenaline to the maximum, you'll get perfect focus, aim, stability, and can ignore most pain." He then shuffled in the chair and resumed, "If you just want to be the best in the gun range, try thinking that it's the last time you'll ever be in the range. You know that you want to do your best, and that's when the adrenaline pumps in…well…that happens to me."

John shrugged his shoulders and replied, "Well, I won't know unless I try."

* * *

Now that John remembered what his brother Louis said, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was thinking that this was the last time that he was going to be in a gun range. He has to do his best. Then, the adrenaline came in. He slowly opened his eyes and time seems slowed down a bit. His mind was clear and focused. He reached for a magazine and slammed it into the receiver.

"You're good to go!" Archer yelled.

John raised the rifle at super-natural speed and opened fired. He aimed for the inner-center ring and the head. John used bursts, but due to the adrenaline surge, the pause between bursts was a split second apart. When John's rifle was out of ammo, the barrel was smoking. "Weapon's clear," John said. Once the adrenaline wore off, John shivered as he felt his spine went cold.

Archer hesitantly walked up to the target and looked at it. "Ho…ly…crap…" Archer murmured. The bullet holes were only in the head and inner-center areas. "30 round magazine times ten…300 points!"

"HOLY CRAP!!!" the crowd screamed.

"Bollocks…" a British accent murmured.

John recognized the voice. He spun around and saluted to 1stLt. Riley. "You…watched us, sir?" John asked, somewhat tired from the adrenaline surge.

"Sure did, Savior. In fact, I've watched all four of you," Lt. Riley admitted, "You four are the best recruits I've ever seen...well in the range." He noticed John's exhaustion and asked, "Something wrong, Savior?"

John put the ACR down and wiped the sweat off his brow. "N-not really, sir; adrenaline surge just tired me out."

Lt. Riley raised an eyebrow and asked, curious, "Adrenaline surge?"

"It's something that my brother Louis taught me. I'm a bit tired to explain it."

"Okay, but I hope you'll explain it to the Captain and me during dinner."

John nodded, sat down on a crate and watched the others fire down the range. As he was watching Meat shooting again, John formed a small smile. _Yeah…I think I've made a good impression to everyone here…_


	3. Dinner with the Captain

A/N: Hehe...well, here's the new chapter after a long hiatus. Tell me what you think.

* * *

Soon, it was 1800 hours. Dinner time. Meat, Royce, Gary, and John were walking towards the Mess Hall…with a crowd of soldiers surrounding them, asking them questions. Most of the questions were given to John, asking how he did that feat in the gun range. The four FNGs didn't like the attention that they were getting. They just want to relax for one last time before their lives get tough. The pestering crowd was preventing that, though.

"HEEEYYYY!!" Royce yelled at the top of his lungs, to get the crowd's attention, "Look, we want to relax before our training starts tomorrow. We just want a good meal, some down time, and some sleep." The other three agreed to this. "Okay, guys?"

The crowd nodded, they understood. They all went to the Mess Hall together. Once they've reached the Mess Hall, the other troops let the four FNGs first. It was their custom to let the new guys go first. The four got trays filled of baked chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, and scrambled corn. Each tray accompanied by a bottle of Gatorade. The four found a spot on a nearby table. They sat down and ate their meal.

Between bites, Meat asked, "Why…couldn't the Mess…have this kind of food…when I was doing a tour in Afghan?"

John drank some of the sports drink and replied, "I don't know…maybe the British serve a different kind of meal than the U.S."

"Actually, it's your last taste of a normal dinner," a familiar British voice said behind him.

Royce nearly choked on a piece of chicken when he heard that voice. The four turned around and saw the same body structure of 1st Lieutenant Riley. However, he wore some kind of mask. It was a balaclava with a skull pattern on the front and he wore red sunglasses.

"Lieutenant Riley? Is that you, sir?" Gary asked.

"Of course," Riley replied.

Royce crossed his arms and he gave a mischievous grin. "Let me guess: the mask and the sunglasses have to do with y_our _nickname, sir?" Royce asked.

"Right again, you bugger. On the battlefield, you call me Ghost, understand?" The four looked at each other and nodded; they've understood why he was called Ghost. His accent, the mask, the sunglasses, and his ability to sneak up on people matched perfectly. Ghost then looked at Gary and asked, "Still don't have a nickname?"

Gary sadly looked at the ground and replied, "Not yet, sir."

"Hey, don't worry; I'm sure you'll come up with something." Then he addressed to all four directly as he said, "The Captain would like to see you four." He then pointed to a man sitting three tables in front of them. The man had a shaven head, except for the Mohawk in the middle of his head, a five o'clock shadow beard, and a scar above his left eye. He was eating among his fellow troops. "Bring your trays if you want," Ghost suggested.

"Yes, sir," the four recruits chanted at once. They got up, took their trays, and walked to the Captain's table.

The Captain saw them and said, "Ah…the new recruits. Find a spot and let's talk." The man had a very noticeable Scottish accent. Following his orders, they've sat on the other side of the table and looked at the table face-to-face. "My name is John MacTavish, and I'm your Commanding Officer. I've heard about the event at the gun range, and I have to say I'm impressed with your performance."

Gary's throat felt dry, so he nervously swallowed some saliva before he announced, "Thank you sir. I'm Sergeant Sanderson, the man on my left is Sergeant Alex 'Royce' Wolfe, the one on the right is Corporal Benjamin Forest, but he's called—"

"It's 'Meat', yes?" MacTavish asked.

Meat was surprised to hear this. "H-How do you know my nickname, sir?" Meat stammered.

"You all met Ghost, yes?" They all nodded. "He's a man of his word: he did tell me your nickname, Corporal. I have to admit, I had a laugh when I heard it; more original than what other soldiers gave."

John leaned forward on the table and admitted, "It's an honor to meet you face-to-face Captain MacTavish. I've heard all of your accomplishments from my brother."

MacTavish raised an eyebrow, interested. "Ah…now I know why you look so familiar: your brother is Private Louis Ramirez?"

John nodded and added, "Well, he's now a Sergeant in the USMC. Did you know that he's going to do that Warp-Drive test flight?"

"Yeah, I've heard…the man deserves that job…after what he's been through…" MacTavish said solemnly. John sadly looked down at the ground, and slowly nodded, agreeing with MacTavish

Gary noticed the sadness in MacTavish's voice. "Wait…what do you mean, sir?"

MacTavish closed his eyes, recollecting old and painful memories. Royce, Meat, and Gary leaned forward, waiting to hear MacTavish's explanation. "It happened during the Second Russian Civil War. Before we had the joint-op with the USMC, John's brother, Louis, was in Afghan with his squad. There were assaulting the Capital City, having reports of Khaled Al-Asad being in the city. During the assault, they received reports of a nuclear bomb in the city, so the Force Recon had to retreat. Louis told me that he and his friends, Staff Sergeant Griggs, Corporal Heath, and Private First Class Lansford, got separated from their squad and entered a different transport. They saw a Black Hawk attack helicopter got shot down, and the rest of their squad went in to rescue the pilots. There were far away from the city when it happened: the nuke detonated. Although they were far from the explosion, they know that the rest of the squad was killed."

He paused for a few brief seconds, and then continued, "After that, they were assigned to do a Joint-op with us, the SAS. We tracked down any possible leads to find the Russian Ultranationalist Terrorist leader, Imran Zakhaev, with the Russian Loyalists. Eventually, we've tracked down Zakhaev at a Nuclear Missile Launch site in the Altay Mountains. We chased him from the site, took enemy transportation, and chased his helicopter on a highway bridge. His helicopter blew up part of the bridge, but we managed to get out of the rubble and climb onto the intact section of the highway. We took cover behind the ruined vehicles. Louis told us to give him some cover fire as he ran to the left side of the bridge. However…it went to hell as there was a Gasoline Trucker behind us. It exploded and knocked my squad and the Louis's squad on our asses. Louis was far from the explosion, but he got shrapnel cut on his neck."

Now things were getting harder for MacTavish to tell, the memories still haunt him. "I was lying next to a burning car, which was bound to explode. Griggs tried to drag me into safer cover, but the poor lad got shot in the neck. Then I saw Zakhaev personally execute the rest of the team, except for me, Louis, and my Captain at the time, Price. Louis was bleeding badly, but he had enough strength to fire at Zakhaev and his bodyguards from a safe distance. He missed, but he got them distracted. Price slid his pistol to me and I took it. I aimed at the bastard and his body guards and pulled the trigger. Soon, I saw them lying on the ground, a pool of blood surrounding their bodies. I then saw Louis limped towards me, and I saw the cut on his throat. Didn't cut through the jugular, but it was still deep enough to cause a lot of blood loss. He then fell to the ground unconscious, and that's when the Russian Loyalists came in and extracted both Louis and me."

"What happened to Price?" Meat asked.

MacTavish shook his said as he quietly replies, "I don't know, I fell unconscious when they attempted to resuscitate Price."

"What happened next?" Royce asked.

"We woke up in a hospital in Moscow, Russia. Louis was the first one to regain consciousness, but he was clearly a different man. He was young, and his squad was his family and his responsibility. He never clearly saw the horror of war until he lost it all. He was filled with survivor-grief and Post-traumatic Stress Disorder. When I regain consciousness, I asked Louis how was he, but he didn't say anything and avoided any kind of contact with people. A few days later, he was shipped back to the States. The nurse found a picture in his room, but since he left, she gave it to me just in case if I ever see him again, but I never did."

"Sir, do you still have my brother's picture?" John asked, wanting to return one of his brother's personal effects when he goes back home.

"As a matter of fact…" MacTavish then dug into his pants pockets and retrieved a glossy piece of paper. "Once I've heard that you were coming, John, I kept it in my pocket. Here." He then passed the photo to John.

John took the photo and studied the image. Louis and his squad was in the picture; laughing, having the time of their lives. In front of Louis was a hastily prepared cake with a candle on top of it. Then John looked at the date at the bottom right hand corner and was heart-broken when he saw it: August 28, 2011…Louis's birthday.

"I think I now know why he was depressed…" John announced solemnly, "This photo was taken on his birthday. His squad must have given him a birthday party before the war."

"It's a sad thing, isn't it?" Ghost asked behind the four recruits. They turned to him as he continued, "One day, they were there with him, and in a blink of an eye, they're gone."

John nodded and put the photo in his pocket. "I don't know if Louis would be glad to have this back."

"You should give it to him," Meat suggested, "That photo is the last link of Louis's squad. It keeps the squad's memories alive, and giving it back to Louis would make him treasure the fond memories they had together."

"You sure?" Royce asked, "It could cause Louis to go in some kind of depression, again."

"It doesn't matter if you remember the memories of lost love ones, Alex." Meat used Royce's real name to get through to him. "It's what you _do_ with the memories is what keeps them alive."

"I don't know…" John admitted, "He was almost suicidal after the first few weeks he was home."

"Well, you can tell him that you have his photo after dinner," MacTavish informed John, "Phones are inside the barracks, but it's your call. The Task Force has free time after dinner, but lights out at 2130."

Gary took another bite from the chicken and asked, "What kind of training do we expect tomorrow?"

Lieutenant Riley replied, "Morning runs around the compound, then calisthenics, hand-to-hand combat, and then we go to the gun range and run 'the Pit'."

John recognized the term, "the Pit". Back when he was stationed in Afghan, there was a shoot house called "the Pit". Basically, you have to run through the course and shoot all 25 targets portrayed as terrorists and end with the fastest time. However, there are eleven targets portrayed as civilians; shoot any of the civilians and it's a two second penalty to your time. _I wonder if anyone beaten my time back at Fire Base Phoenix?_ John wondered. His run through time was 23.68 seconds; no civilians were shot and used a Bushmaster Adaptive Combat Rifle and a USP.45 handgun.

"So John…" John bolted from his thoughts and looked at Captain MacTavish. "Ghost has told me about your display of marksmanship at the gun range. You told Ghost something you call 'adrenaline surge;' I'm curious on what you meant."

John gave it a thought, trying to come up with the words to explain it. _How do I explain this?_ John scratched the back of his head as he stammered, "W-well…it's hard to explain, Captain. It's something that my entire family can do; I'm not sure if anyone else can do it. Well, basically: it is a person's ability to use adrenaline fully…what Louis describe as becoming a so-called super soldier. My father passed the lesson to my sister, who passed it to Louis, and who passed it to me and James. We all know that when facing extreme dangers, we get a burst of adrenaline, yes?" The entire group nodded. "What Louis said is that he believes fear is a resistant, preventing the user to use this ability. He believes if the person accepts that the he or she could die any minute during combat, thus removing that fear, the adrenaline in the bloodstream flows…um…perfectly. This in turn gives the user enhanced senses, able to ignore most pain, super-human quick-time reflexes, and un-human speed."

MacTavish was intrigued by John's explanation. He gave it a thought, and said, "That seems…interesting. Are you sure that no one else can do it?"

John shrugged his shoulders and replied, "I don't know, Captain. All I know is that my entire family can do this ability. I have no idea if anyone else can do it."

"We could see if the other troops can do this ability during PT tomorrow morning," Ghost suggested.

"You could try, but I really doubt that anyone else can do it," John disagreed.

"We won't know until we try."

* * *

Later…

It was 2100 when dinner was over. The four said goodbye to Captain MacTavish and Ghost and walked back to their barracks. Once inside, they took turns taking showers. After John took his shower, he wore a sleeveless shirt and sleeping shorts. He hesitantly walked to the phones in the barracks and stood in front of the wall phones. John's throat felt dry, so he swallowed some saliva. He picked up the phone and dialed Louis's phone number.

He only heard the phone tone, until Louis's voice came through the speaker. "Hello? This Sergeant Ramirez, who am I speaking to?"

"Hello, bro. It's me, John," John replied.

"Oh, hey there Johnny! How's your first day in the Task Force? Did you meet MacTavish?"

"Yeah…I did. He is everything you told me; he told us about his leadership and how much he cares about his troops. The other recruits and I just have a free day today, but we still went to the gun range."

"Did you get a perfect score?" Louis asked, curious.

"Yeah I did; I've used the adrenaline surge. Which reminds me: MacTavish asked me about the ability and I told him about it. He wants to see if the other soldiers can do it during training tomorrow."

"Really? I'll be amazed if others can do it," Louis admitted.

John didn't say anything for a few brief moments. He was deep in thought and worried. _Should I tell him about the picture?_ John wondered. _Should I risk of getting him into another depression?_

Louis must have noticed the silence as he asked, "John, you alright?"

John bolted from his thoughts and replied, "Y-yeah, I'm alright. I…I have to go now; it's almost lights out."

"Oh, okay. Goodnight, little bro." With that said, John hung up the phone.

John slowly walked towards his bunk and plopped on top of it. He felt guilty for not telling Louis about the photo, but he didn't want to risk on getting Louis depressed again.

"What the…?" Gary exclaimed out loud. John turned to his left, to see what caused Gary to say this. Gary picked something up from his pillow. Once John got a better look of what Gary was holding, he saw it was a huge roach. Gary put the bug on the ground and, instead of killing it, he let it go. "First day in the Task Force and already I've encountered roaches," Gary complained out loud.

Then, an idea popped into John's mind. "I think I've found your nickname, Gary," John announced.

Gary chuckled and shook his head, thinking it was joke. However, when he looked at John, John really meant it. "Wait…you can't be serious. Nicknamed after a bug?" Gary asked, dumbfounded.

"Well Ghost isn't going to stop asking if you have a nickname till you have one. Why not?"

"Well…I guess," Gary admitted. "Gary 'Roach' Sanderson…it kinda sounds catchy."

Then the ceiling lights turned off and then changed to red lights, filling the barracks with a red light. It wasn't bright, but it wasn't dark.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me!" Meat yelled out loud, "I can't sleep with this kind of light on!"

John understood why Meat was so upset; he was sleeping on the bunk above John, so the light was directly on Meat.

"Well you've got to get used to it, Meat," Royce said, "It's going to be like this, _every _night."

Meat grumbled and tried to go to sleep.

John pulled the rough blanket over him and rested his head on the rough pillow. He then closed his eyes, ready for the training tomorrow.


	4. Boot

It was 0600 when the song, "Revelry", played through the barrack's speakers. Loud. John bolted up from his dreams and hit his head on the top bunk. His face contorted with pain.

_Ow…_John moaned in his mind as he rubbed his head. _Well…they do know how to wake someone up._ It seems that the other three had the same reaction. Roach and Royce hit their heads on the bunks above them and Meat….well…he fell off the bunk while swearing, "Son of a bitch!"

John chuckled when he saw Meat land on the ground, face-first. John got off his bunk and knelt besides Meat. He extended his hand and joked, "Better get used to it, Meat. We can't afford to have you left behind due to a face injury."

Meat scowled, but he took hold of John's hand and he was pulled up. "Shut up, Savior," Meat growled.

Then a British 1st Sergeant walked up. The night before, everyone in the barracks introduce themselves to the four. This man is called Ozone. "Hurry up and get changed into your PT clothes!" Ozone announced, "We're going straight to training! MacTavish is going to do the training, so wear something that dries quickly!"

Soon, they've left the barracks and went straight to the field. John wore Marine Quick Dry training clothes. Quick Dry clothing is made of synthetic fibers that allow a breeze to go through the fibers and cool down the wearer and dries really quickly when wet. _I wonder why we have to wear this kind of clothing; are we going to get wet? _John wondered.

Everyone gathered in a grassy field in front of the base. John looked around and saw a collection of dumbbells besides the Task Force. John wondered why they have them there. He then saw Captain MacTavish walk to the front of the group. MacTavish wore the same kind of clothing John has. He was well built; he wasn't extremely muscular, but he wasn't skinny, nor was he too tall or too short. He looked a little bit ordinary for a man who had seen so much combat…except for his stride. The Captain moved with a slow grace as if he were walking in the moon's gravity. The scar above his left eye also shows that he has been in nightmarish combat. MacTavish stood front and center so the entire Task Force can see him.

"Jumping jacks!" MacTavish shouted. "Count of to two hundred! Ready, go." The officer started the exercise and the Task Force followed his lead.

When John was in the Marines, they did one hundred jumping jacks. This was twice the amount John normally did. His arms, stomach, and legs started to burn a little bit. Sweat started to trickle down his back.

"One-ninety-eight—199—200." MacTavish paused. He drew in a deep breath. He then walked over to the pile of dumbbells and picked up a pair of 70lbs weights. "Take a pair that you can handle," MacTavish ordered. John walked up to the pile and picked up a pair of 40lbs weights. Once everyone had a pair of weights, MacTavish yelled, "Sit-ups!" He then dropped onto the grass. "Count off to one hundred. No slacking." Then they started doing sit-ups while holding the dumbbells, this added to the intensity of the exercise.

The veins in John's arms started to bulge and his face started to turn red. He looked around and saw that Royce, Roach, and Meat were having as much stress. They were trying to do their best; they don't want to give up.

Deep squats followed. Then knee bends. Both were performed with the weights.

"Leg lifts." MacTavish continued like he was a machine. As if they were all machines.

John was reaching his limits—but he knew that the Captain would get mad if he gave up now. He tried; he had to move. His legs trembled and barely lifted five inches above the ground.

"Rest," MacTavish finally called, "Water break."

The Task Force had their water bottles right beside them. John sat on the grass and grabbed his water bottle. Opening the cap, he took a quick swig of water from the bottle. It was cold and clean. It was the best water John ever had. He put the cap back on and put the bottle down. He flopped on his back in the grass and panted.

The sun was high up now. It was warm. John rolled to his knees and let the sweat drip off him like rain. He slowly got up and looked at Meat, Royce, and Roach. They were equally as tired as John. Their clothes were soaked through with perspiration. Although they were sore, they didn't complain.

Without John knowing, MacTavish walked up to John, his shadow covering John. "Not bad for the first day, Savior," MacTavish commented. He then looked at the other three and added, "You three did well, too."

Meat smiled and replied, "Thank you, sir."

MacTavish then looked at Roach and asked, "Do you have a nickname, now?

Roach weakly smiled, nodded and replied, "Yes, sir, it's Roach."

MacTavish raised an eyebrow, curious. "And why's that?"

Roach was about to explain, but Royce beat him to it. "Gary found a huge roach on his bed. Big and nasty one, too."

"Big…and nasty?" MacTavish asked. Roach nodded, embarrassed. MacTavish gave a hearty chuckle and said, "Well, it's a creative nickname, I'll give you that." He then faced the entire Task Force and ordered, "Everyone fall in; we're going for a little hike! Bring your water with you!"

The "little hike" turned out to be a ten mile cross-country hike. They've hiked through the forest, zigzagging between trees. After hiking through four miles of forest, they've reached a clearing. John saw the East gate of the Base and gave a sigh of relief. _Well…it's almost over at least. _John thought. MacTavish led the men to the gate. It seemed like they were about to go back into the base, until MacTavish turned to a different direction. John's enthusiasm diminished. _WHAT? ! _John exclaimed in his mind.

MacTavish then led the Task Force to a river. They ran beside it until the river bended to a different direction. MacTavish then led the men through the river. The other troops waded through waist-high water and struggled to fight against the current. After wading through 20 yards of water, they finally went back on dry land. Their clothes were dripping wet and were completely soaked. For the final trek of the hike, MacTavish led the troops to the base of a steep hill.

_Oh you got to be kidding me…_John moaned in his mind. _This is truly for the elites…_

Despite the protests in his mind and muscles, John followed MacTavish as he ran up the hill. The Captain doesn't seem to be tired in any way. _The Captain is one hell of a soldier..._ After reaching the top of the hill, John stopped and tried to get some air. After he regained his composure, he saw that at the bottom of the hill was the West gate of the base. _At least, we're almost back._ John ran the whole way down. Unfortunately, he tripped on his own feet and started to roll down the hill, screaming all the way down. "OOH CRAAAAAAAAP…!" John screamed.

MacTavish was half-way down when he heard the screams. He turned around and saw that John was rolling towards his way. He tried to get out of the way, but he was caught and he too joined the tumble, yelling all the way down. At the bottom of the hill, John landed face-first into the grass while MacTavish landed on his back.

"Oww…." John moaned. His groan was muffled due to the grass. He looked to his left and saw that MacTavish was on the ground as well. "Oh crap!" John quickly got up and ran to his Captain's side. "Sir, I-I'm so sorry! It was my—" John stammered before the unusual happened.

John heard the Captain gave a small chuckle. Eventually, it turned into a heartily, Scottish laugh. John was surprised and flabbergasted. "Haha…ah…reminds of being a kid again," MacTavish chuckled. John gave a small smile, knowing that he wasn't in trouble. John extended his hand and the Captain took it. Once he was pulled up, MacTavish said, "It's alright, Savior. I'm not mad." He checked the time, it was 0900. Once the rest of the Task Force was regrouped with the Captain, MacTavish ordered, "All right, it's time for breakfast! After that, meet at the gun-range at 1030."

In the military, breakfast after a workout is _very_ important. They have to eat huge meals because they've burned all those calories. The Mess was serving trays filled with stacks of pancakes, bacon, eggs, coffee, and toast. It should last them for the entire training session. John gulped down a few cups of coffee—or maybe five cups—and ate a somewhat large meal.

Later…

Together, they marched to the gun range. On the table, there were two guns that caught John's eyes. He picked one of them up. It wasn't heavy, only 14 pounds with the magazine. It had a boxy stock and it had an oversized sighting device. To John, the weapon looked like the IMI Tavor TAR-21 assault rifle because its magazine is at the bottom of the shoulder butt, just like the TAR-21, and it almost has the same trigger guard.

"Ahhh…I see that you've found the XM25," Ghost said behind John.

John nearly jumped out of his skin. "Dammit Ghost…" John complained, "Do you like sneaking up on people?"

"Only the ones that get my attention," Ghost replied. He then pointed to the gun and asked, "Do you know what the XM25 is, Savior?" John shook his head. "Well, it's an airburst grenade launcher. It has a 25mm caliber, semi-automatic, and its maximum effective range is 750 meters. It fires 25 mm grenades that are set to explode in mid-air at or near the target. A laser rangefinder in the gun is used to determine the distance to the target. The user can manually adjust the detonating distance by up to three meters shorter or longer. The gun automatically transmits the detonating distance to the grenade in the firing chamber. The grenade tracks the distance it has traveled by the number of spiral rotations after it is fired. These features make the XM25 more effective than traditional grenade launchers at the task of hitting targets that are behind cover or dug into the ground."

* * *

A/N: **I'm not lying about the weapon that was described above. I saw this in the May's issue of the Army Times, and it was interesting. There is another weapon that was mentioned in the article. You'll find out below.**

* * *

John gave out a long whistle, impressed on the weapon's abilities. "What's the magazine capacity?" John asked.

"Four rounds per mag."

John put the gun down and picked up the other weapon. It looked very similar to the M240B, but it was surprisingly lighter.

"THAT, my friend, is the M240L 7.62 medium machine gun," MacTavish said when he reached John. "It is intended to reduce the weight of the existing M240B by five pounds. The resulting improvements will reduce the Soldier's combat load while allowing easier handling and movement of the weapon."

"Wow…" John murmured while putting the weapon back down. "Technology is an amazing thing." He looked at Captain MacTavish and asked, "Can I try out the XM25, sir?"

"Go ahead."

John grabbed the XM25 and a magazine as he walked to the gun booth. He looked at the rounds inside the magazine and was amazed by the size of the round itself. _Damn! _John thought. _The round is nearly one inch in diameter._ John slammed the magazine into the receiver at the shoulder-butt. Once he brandished the weapon, it felt a bit awkward. There was a target that popped right behind a low wall. He aimed at the target for a few seconds for the weapon to calculate the distance. After a few seconds, he adjusted the range three meters shorter. Tightening his grip, John squeezed the trigger. The grenade fired towards the target and exploded three meters in front of the target. Despite being shorter, shrapnel managed to pepper the target. John then aimed at the target again, this time he adjusted the range three meters longer. He fired again, and the grenade exploded behind the target. He got the same results. The third time he aimed at the target and didn't change the distance. He fired and the grenade exploded point-blank at the target. This time, the target was extremely peppered with burns and it was shredded from the shrapnel.

John removed the magazine and emptied out the chamber. "Damn…I would like to use this as a backup weapon with my ACR," John commented.

MacTavish gave out a small chuckle and said, "You might get that wish, Savior." Soon, he started to laugh, and John soon followed. John stepped back and sat on a crate, watched the other troops fire the weapons.

Later…

Soon, everyone gathered at the entrance of "The Pit" shoot house.

MacTavish looked at John and ordered, "Savior, I want you to go first. I would like everyone to see your 'adrenaline surge' ability."

John saluted and replied, "Yes, sir."

John entered the weapons stash and picked his weapons. His weapons were an ACR with a holographic sight and a fore grip handle and a USP .45 handgun. John waited at the gate and heard Ghost's voice through the speakers. "Timer will start when the first target pops."

John slammed a magazine into the receiver of the ACR and pulled the charging lever. He closed his eyes, and tried to think it was his last time at the shoot house. The adrenaline then pumped into his veins. He opened his eyes and the first three targets popped out. One was behind a low wall, one is behind a ruined car, and the other was behind a small window obstacle. John raised the weapon and moved at super-natural speeds. He fired three shots, and three targets were hit. All before five seconds have passed. He then moved to the next section. He stood in front of a concrete, two story building. In the front, nine targets popped. Two of them were civvies. Two were hiding behind a low wall, one was at the window of the first story, one was standing at the doorway, and three were on the second story windows. John managed to shoot all seven terrorist targets, without shooting a civilian.

He slung the ACR over his shoulder and switched to his side arm. He ran inside and saw that there was a stairway leading to the second floor. Five targets popped out, two of them were civilians. One target was behind a table, with a civilian behind it. The others were on John's right. John got into a stable stance and fired three shots. The terrorist targets went down. He quickly reloaded the hand gun and ran upstairs. At the top of the stairs, a target swung into the open. John grabbed his combat knife at his belt and stabbed the target. Once he got through the doorway, five more targets popped out, two were civilians. He shot the first two, and saw that the last one was in front of the ledge that leads to the next section. John grabbed his knife and threw it at the target (he has a spare knife in his boot). The blade dug three inches into the target.

John jumped down and switched for his ACR. The next section had ten targets, two were civvies. John brought his rifle back up and opened fired. He had to be _extremely _careful; the civilian targets were behind terrorist targets, and the ACR had a high penetration power, it could puncture through the terrorist target and hit the civilian behind it. Once the area was clear, he ran to the final section. Four targets popped out, half were civilians. The two terrorist targets were behind ruined cars, panning to the sides. John quickly shot the two targets and ran towards the end.

Once John passed the finish line, he felt the adrenaline wore off. His spine went cold. He looked at Ghost and, even though he was wearing his balaclava and sun glasses, the creases in his mask show that he had his mouth open.

"Bollocks…" Ghost murmured. "22.32 seconds…that's four seconds faster than me and the Captain! You even managed to have a perfect score and no civilian casualties!"

John wiped the cold sweat off his forehead and gave a weak smile. _That's 1.36 seconds faster than the time I left in Fire Base Phoenix…_ John thought. He bended forward and panted; he was extremely pooped. _Damn…why…does this happen every time…does this fatigue happen to my brother every time he used it…or is it because I've worked so hard in the training?_

MacTavish walked behind John and placed a hand on his shoulder. John looked up and saw that the Captain was concerned. "John, is everything all right?" MacTavish asked.

John gave a wry smile and said, "Just tired…*pant*…I think the training really tired me out. Don't worry though, it won't happen again."

"All right. Can you explain the method of the adrenaline surge to these wide-eyed troops?" John looked to the Task Force and he saw that they were flabbergasted. Never once have they seen a time like the one John has.

John got up and gave a small smile. "Sure thing, Captain."

After 20 minutes explaining the technique of the "adrenaline surge," it was time to see if the men can do it. Everyone went once without the surge, so they can compare the time they did with the surge…

If they managed to do it…

John was really tired, so he sat on a crate and fell asleep…

About an hour later…

John woke up, feeling a little bit better. Sometime during his sleep, someone gave him a clipboard filled with everyone's times, including MacTavish and Ghost. He picked it up and looked through the list, looking for any major improvements the troopers did on their second time. There was a pencil with the clipboard, so he checked off any troopers that looked like that they did the adrenaline surge. While he was checking the list, he looked up and saw the Task Force was waiting for his answer.

After checking all the people that seemed to have the ability, John seemed pretty surprised. Despite only having five people that can do the ability, it was still amazing that others can do this ability. The people that can do it are MacTavish, Ghost—which doesn't surprise him as much—Roach, Meat, and Royce. _I kinda think that this was no coincidence..._John thought.

He got up and showed the roster to MacTavish. He then posted it on an announcement board for everyone to see. Most of the Task Force was disappointed, but Meat, Royce, and Roach felt like that they've succeeded the nearly impossible.

"Hey, for those that didn't make it, don't worry!" John tried to reassure them, "Not everyone can do it the first time, but keep training and eventually you'll get it!"

All of those who didn't make it smiled at John's speech.

John looked at the sky and saw the sun was almost setting. It was almost 1800 hours.

"All right, troops," MacTavish announced, "I'm pretty sure that all of you are expecting some kind of long speech, but I'm not the one for formalities. To make things short: you all did an excellent job!" He then faced the four FNGs and added, "You four did an excellent job, despite being your first training day here. Now, it's time to eat!"

"HOORAH!" the Task Force grunted.

Together, they went back to mess for dinner. The mess was serving spaghetti with garlic bread, Gatorade, and the troops have the choice to have parmesan cheese with their spaghetti. The four took their meals and ate together.

While John was eating, he was confused on what Ghost has said last night. Tonight, they were having a regular meal, but Ghost said yesterday it was their last time for a regular meal. _"__Actually, it's your last taste of a normal dinner…" does he mean that it's the last time we have dinner on a _normal_ day?_

Near the end of the four's dinner, the Captain walked up to them. "Excuse me, I would like to have a word with Savior and Roach...in private," MacTavish ordered.

John and Roach nodded and put their trays away. They've followed MacTavish to a building called "Combat Strategy Outpost." They've gone through the hallways, and went into a debriefing room.

MacTavish turned on a projector and showed a map of the Tian Shan Mountain range, Kazakhstan. "We have a mission," the Captain announced, "A few days ago, a National Security satellite went down over the Tian Shan Mountain range. The Russians managed to get the satellite and we believe that they're trying to get to the ACS module of the satellite. If they do, they'll get the key to every lock in America."

Roach raised his hand to ask a question. "Sir, where are they holding the satellite?" Roach asked.

MacTavish pointed to a section of the mountain peak, the northeastern cliff. "They have an airfield at this area; used primarily as a fueling station for their MiG-29s." He then zoomed into the area, showing a satellite photo of the base. He pointed to a hanger, south of the airstrip, and added, "Intel says that the ACS module is in this hanger. However, we need to plant 'Plan B' before we go retrieve the module." He then pointed to refueling station.

"Umm…what is 'Plan B', sir?" John asked.

"We plant C4 explosives at the fueling station just in case things don't go the way we want it to."

"Sir, why us?" Roach asked, "I mean…we're the new guys…shouldn't you ask someone that already spent some time in the Task Force?"

"Normally, I would take Ghost on missions like these," MacTavish replied, "However, I want to see you two in the field. You both have great potential in the 141, I can see it."

"So…when is the mission starting?" John asked.

"Tomorrow morning, we leave the base," MacTavish replied, "So, will you take the mission?"

John and Roach looked at each other for a brief moment and each gave a small grin. They turn to MacTavish and replied at the same time, "We'll do it."

"Good. Now, pack up and get some sleep. Dismissed!" MacTavish barked.

The pair saluted the Captain and walked back to the barracks. Once back inside, they packed up what they needed for the mission. Freeze-dried food, hand warmer patches, and they've put their ice-climbing clothes and gear besides their bunks.

After taking quick showers, the two went to their bunks.

John rolled to his side and asked, "Hey Roach, you ready?"

"Yeah…I am," Roach replied, "Not even one week has passed, and already we've got a mission. I've got faith in ya, live up to that nickname of yours, John."

John gave out a small chuckle. "Yeah…that's the life of a soldier for ya. Semper Fidelis…we're always faithful."

Semper Fi…

* * *

A/N: Well...if you can tell, the next chapter is going to be Cliffhanger. The next chapter will take some time for it to be uploaded, since I have to play the mission several times and come up with the chapter. Until then, please enjoy and leave reviews!


	5. Cliffside

A/N: Okay, I had to split the Cliffhanger Chapter into two parts, as it reached over 20 pages on the word program. I don't want to upload an extremely long chapter on the website. Plus...the mission itself is not done, but almost. Also, I'm taking Marching Band, Summer School, _and_ AP summer assignments, so...I'm pretty much busy throughout the summer. Don't be surprised if I don't make an update for a long time.

Okay, now that's out of the way, please enjoy the new chapter and review.

* * *

High in the air—about 60,000 feet—the team was waiting at the rear section of the transport. They were about 50 miles away from the airbase to avoid radar detection. It was the middle of night, as they were going to perform a HAHO jump, or a High Altitude-High opening jump. A HAHO jump will allow the team to glide for longer distances—unlike a HALO jump—and they won't get detected by radar. All of them were inhaling 100% pure oxygen, as they need to flush the nitrogen from their blood stream. John's breathing was long and deep. He was so preoccupied with breathing that he didn't see MacTavish walking towards him. John looked up and saw the Captain holding a small remote and a helmet, but it wasn't any ordinary helmet. Once John got a better look at the helmet, he saw at the middle of the front section of the helmet had what it appears to be…

"Camera lens? What is this, sir?" John asked.

"It's something that the Intelligence Department came up," MacTavish replied in a somewhat annoyed voice. Whatever the Intelligence Department came up with, he didn't like it as much. "It's a S.A.R.H., a Surveillance and Recon Helmet. It's supposed to record everything that the user sees."

Roach must have heard MacTavish, as he asked, "Why, sir?"

The Captain shrugged his shoulders and replied, "Performance evaluations, video demonstrations for recruits, evidence, and—in grim cases—to discover what or who killed the user." He passed the helmet and the remote to John and added, "I want you to test the helmet on this mission, 'kay, Savior?"

John put the helmet on his head and saw that there was a one piece visor over his left eye, maybe to check the video feed. He then put the remote into his pocket and pressed RECORD. On the visor, the red dot icon appeared.

"Sure thing, sir," John replied as he fastened the helmet. "Where's the data being stored, sir?"

"There's a SD chip hard-drive between the inside of the helmet and the padding."

"60 seconds!" the pilot yelled behind him.

MacTavish stood in front of the ramp and ordered, "You heard him; line up!"

John held his breath, removed the nozzle of the oxygen mask from the plane's tank, and attached it to the oxygen bottle in his pack. Roach followed John's lead and together they formed behind Captain MacTavish.

"30 seconds…" the pilot yelled again.

Everyone checked their kits, making sure their parachutes were packed right. Then they checked their gear…

Weapons…check and secured.

Altimeter and GPS…check.

Knives…check.

Radio…check.

Ammunition, freeze-dried food, matches, canteens, and hand-warmer patches…all check.

"10 seconds!"

Everyone waited for the ramp to be lowered. Soon, the ramp started to lower and they felt the stinging cold of the night air. Everyone put on their goggles and waited for the red light to turn green.

The green light then turned on.

"GO, GO, GO!" the pilot yelled.

MacTavish walked towards the ramp, and ordered John and Roach, "Follow me as best as you can!" He then jumped out of the plane and started to free-fall.

Roach ran up to the edge of the ramp and looked at John. "See you at the bottom, Savior!" He too jumped out and joined the free-fall.

John then ran to the edge and he jumped out, yelling, "YAAHOOOOOOO!"

Free-falling was an exciting feeling to John. The adrenaline, the euphoria…it made him feel alive. He checked the helmet and saw it was still recording. John wondered if he can get a copy of the footage. _I would love to see this again on the big screen at home…_John thought. After seven seconds of free-falling, he saw both MacTavish and Roach have deloyed parachutes. He has to wait for eight more seconds before he could open his own chute.

After a total of fifteen seconds of free-falling, John finally pulled the cord. The parachute opened and he started to float down. John felt some pain in his shoulders as his descent was slowed down abruptly. He took hold of the steering cables and tried his best to follow MacTavish and Roach.

After gliding for 30 minutes, frost began to form on the sides of John's goggles and inside his nose. _Damn…it is cold up here…_John thought…_it's just as cold as Louis's room when he keeps the AC on._ He wasn't exaggerating: Louis's room was practically a meat freezer back when he was a kid. It was so cold, ice formed _inside_ the AC unit _and_ his room. _I swear…I think saw a thin layer of snow on his furniture…_He looked down and saw a forest right underneath him. He then looked forward and saw that they were near the mountain. _Just a few more miles to go…_John thought.

Another 20 minutes have passed when they were 50 feet above their landing site, which was 300 feet up the Northeastern side. They all pulled a dummy cord, which made their gear fall first so the weight won't contribute to the impact. The gear was in a single pack and was attached with a cord with their owner. MacTavish landed first and John landed beside him. John's landing was a bit sloppy; he didn't anticipate the snow giving way when he landed. He sank two feet into the snow and fell forward. He landed face-first into the snow.

"Damn…" John muffled from the snow. He quickly got out of the snow and went to his gear. He pulled up the quick release switches so he won't get dragged by the wind, packed up the chute, and slung his gear over his shoulder. However, he noticed something was different. He looked around, and saw Roach wasn't here. "Roach? Where are ya?" John said through his radio.

He heard some rustling through the radio, and then Roach's voice came through the radio. "Um…a little help, please? I'm stuck in a friggin' tree!"

John looked around to find a tree with a chute covering it. He soon found it, about 50 feet west of his location. He and MacTavish went to the tree and saw Roach struggling to get free. Roach tried to untangle the cables of the parachute, but to no avail.

"Roach!" MacTavish cried out, "Use the quick release!"

Roach reached for the quick release switches on the shoulder straps. He managed to pull the switch on the left strap, causing the risers on the left side of the parachute to be released. He tugged at the switch on the right strap, but it was jammed. Roach was already frustrated; he kept pulling and pulling. In his fury, he didn't realize that he was suspended twenty feet in the air.

With one final, mighty tug, the quick release snapped up. The remaining risers detach from the bag and Roach began to fall. He screamed as he saw the ground getting closer and closer. When he land on the snow, he sunk one foot into the snow, leaving an impression of his body.

"Ow…" Short, plain, and simple. That was all that Roach managed to say.

When John saw the impression in the snow, he began to feel a chuckle forming. He then finally laughed; it was hilarious when Roach left a one foot crater in the snow. MacTavish gave a small chuckle, too.

Roach quickly got up and scowled. "It's not funny!" Roach snarled, "I could've been killed!"

"Ground team, this is your advisor from HQ." It came from the radio. "We saw that you made a safe landing from our radar—" Roach had to laugh. "—you're on your own until extraction."

MacTavish press down the PTT button and replied, "Roger that. Requesting permission to maintain radio silence between HQ till I say otherwise."

"Affirmative," the advisor, "Good hunting, team, out."

"Out, HQ." MacTavish then faced John and Roach and pointed up towards the mountain side. "Come on, we're burning nighttime."

"Yes, sir," both Roach and John replied. John helped Roach get his gear. Now that all three were ready and armed to the teeth, they started their climb up the mountain. It wasn't a slow pace, but it wasn't an exhausting pace. However, the night, winter temperature and the biting winds hinder their pace.

Roach's goggles were covered with frost and his face was stung by the ice crystals carried by the high winds. His cheeks were red. The other two men, John and MacTavish, fared no difference.

After four hours of traveling, they've reached the base of the cliff where the airstrip overlooks. It was still late at night, 11:48.

MacTavish turned around and ordered Roach and John, "We'll camp here for the night. In the morning, we have to leave our parachutes and our bags; just take your weapons and climbing gear."

"Yes, sir," both John and Roach replied.

Using their chutes, packed snow, and some fallen tree branches, they've made an improvised tent. John also started a camp fire at the entrance of the tent, which Roach used to melt snow and fill their canteens. John also stopped the helmet from recording, as this was unimportant. Inside the tent, all three ate their dried-fruit and drank in silence.

MacTavish eyed his fellow troops. _This could be a big mistake…_MacTavish though. This could be the last time that either John or Roach would be alive, and he barely knows them.

So…he decided to break the ice (no pun intended).

"So Savior, have any other family?" MacTavish asked.

John looked up from his meal and swallowed the chewed dried fruit. "Well…besides Louis, I have a younger brother named James and an oldest sister named Katrina," John replied.

"Are they in the military?"

"Yeah, both of them are. James is a Private in the Army Rangers and Kat is a Lieutenant in the Army Nurse Corp. James is a rather shy kid; he rarely talks to anyone that isn't his friend or in his squad. But his tenacity in battle is unbound. He is also a very strict soldier, but he is kind outside of the uniform. He can be a gentleman one day, next day he can be a Sergeant Major Plumley." John gave out a small chuckle when he made his jest. "Katrina…well…she's one hell of an officer. Smart, strategic, resourceful, courageous…hell, she reminds of Harold Moore back when he was in Vietnam. She has a boyfriend…an architect named…I believe it was Joseph Griffin."

"So you're entire family is in the Military?" MacTavish continued to ask.

John nodded. "My parents were in the Army, but they're retired now."

MacTavish then faced Roach and asked, "So Roach, got any family?"

Roach hands fumbled together, nervously. "Um…well, yes sir. I have a wife named Jessica and a seven year old daughter named Camille." He paused for a brief moment. "I joined the Marines so I could protect my family. So when I joined the 141, I thought that I could do that job better…well…due to the circumstances we have with Russia."

Both MacTavish and John nodded from what Roach has said. They both wanted to protect the people they care or loved, and this kind of Task Force is the best way to do it.

Roach then looked at John and asked, "So Savior, got a girl waiting for you at home?"

John scratched the back of his head, somewhat embarrassed and gave a wry smile. "Uh…well…not really; throughout my childhood, my family has been moving every three years—something that you'll expect in a military lifestyle. I was a shy kid, and I can never get a conversation between a girl and me. I…" John paused. He drew in a deep breath as he was going to reveal something personal.

"I…actually never had a girlfriend…ever."

MacTavish and Roach stared at him, mouths agape and shocked. "You never had a girlfriend?" both of them asked.

"Well…I tried several times. However, I kinda find it depressing to have a relationship that you end and make another relationship with another girl somewhere else, which too must end eventually," John replied, "I eventually just gave up."

Then a thought came to Roach's mind. "Wait, does that mean you never kissed a woman before?" Roach asked.

John's face reddened from the embarrassment. "Sh-shut up!" John stammered.

"Leave the poor lad alone, Roach," MacTavish advised, "So what if he never kissed a woman before?"

John wanted to change the subject, and fast. "So Captain," John said out loud. MacTavish raised an eyebrow, waiting for what John wanted to say. "Can you tell us about Captain Price?"

MacTavish was then lost in thought, coming up with memories of his former Captain. Sometimes he would give a small chuckle from time to time. "Well…Price was a bad-ass; redefined the word 'unique'. He can be a pain in the ass from time to time, but he's a loveable pain in the ass." MacTavish gave out a small chuckle through his small smile. "He's one of those people that always leave a mark in others. I always find it _impossible_ to find something that makes him dull."

As their Captain went silent and drank from his canteen, John was compelled to ask a question that popped into his mind. "Sir, did the Russians tell you what happened to Price?" The question has caused a drastic changed in the Captain's manners and posture. Their Captain shifted restlessly and narrowed his eyes as he stared at the ground.

"I…I tried asking them a few days after I was shipped back home," MacTavish replied, "However, by the time I asked, the Ultranationalist party overthrew the Loyalists and gain control over Russia."

Both Roach and John found the answer…odd, but reasonable. It was just as same as not knowing what has happened.

For some reason, both Roach and John thought the results of the Second Russian Civil War to be…ironic. They fought alongside with the Loyalists, they tracked down their most wanted Terrorist leader, and they killed him. However, in the end, Zakaev became the hero, and the U.S. and the Loyalists lost the war.

The two's train-of-thought was disturbed when Captain MacTavish changed the subject. "It's getting late; we better get some shut-eye, soon. Tomorrow, we need all the energy we can use, so we better sleep now," MacTavish stated. He picked up his dry-ration wrappers and tossed them into the fire. The fire engulfed the trash with ease.

Within minutes, the men lay quiet in their makeshift tent and curled up, with their gear besides them. When morning comes, the day's events are going to be in the past, but it will be the dawn of a new chapter, a new day. And the new day would be marked down as the turning point in John's life, as he would face a new genre of adventure. A genre that he's willing to accept…

And maybe willing to die because of it…


	6. Cliffhanger

A/N: Finally! I've finally finished writing this chapter. It took longer than I thought, well...due to summer school, marching band, and AP assignments. Without further ado, enjoy and please leave reviews.

* * *

It was early noon; the sun was high in the sky, shining through the thick, icy layers of cloud. The temperature was at its lowest at this time, and it caused ice to stick to John's and Roach's five o' clock shadows and eyebrows.

The three men were positioned high up on the mountain; only a few meters separating them from the top of the cliff. Roach looked at the view from this altitude; it was breathtaking. He can see the sides of the surrounding mountains, and he even dared to peer over the ledge, hoping to see the bottom through the thick, icy fog bellow. The only thing that ruined this moment for Roach was the sweet, musky scent from John's and MacTavish's lit cigars.

Even though cigarettes and cigars are different, Roach still find them irritating. However, he can't stop the two men. It was their way to calm their nerves. Roach still finds this surprising: neither John nor MacTavish say anything that suggested that they smoke. MacTavish was a heavy smoker, a trait he got from his own Captain, Price. John, however, didn't really smoke as much. John only smokes to keep his insides warm; this event was an example. Roach checked his weapon to see if it was secured; it was a silenced ACR with a Red Dot Reflex sight and a Heartbeat sensor monitor on the left side of the weapon.

Roach then looked at John…and truth-be-told: John looked like John Rambo. John had the same rifle Roach had, but John had a different weapon slung over his shoulder. He had a XM25 air-burst grenade launcher, with four extra magazines for it. He also has a tactical knife and a USP .45 handgun. On his utility belt, John has four grenades and four flash-bangs. _That's going to be useful…_Roach thought. Roach then looked at MacTavish and saw his weapon of choice: a Red-Hot thermal scoped, silenced M21 ERB sniper rifle. What caught Roach's attention was the side-arm MacTavish has on his thigh holster: a WWII era M1911.45 handgun.

_Why does he have that?_ Roach wondered.

The peaceful silence was shattered when a MiG-29 jet flew overhead. Roach looked up and saw the streaks the plane created were _so_ close that it seems that he could touch them. The sound from the jet rattled their chests and shook some loose ice to fall off. Although seeing a jet this close can be irking, it was a good sign to the three. It meant that they were close to their target. They've been climbing for the past seven hours, so both Roach and John were enlightened by the scene.

After the jet had disappeared, MacTavish peered over his left shoulder, looking at Roach and John. John saw him and he nodded, took his cigar between his gloved fingers and flicking it over the edge. MacTavish did the same. Roach however, was still mesmerized by the view.

"Break's over, Roach, let's go," MacTavish stated flatly while rising from his crouched position. Roach looked at him and gave a professional nod. The two followed the Captain's orders and began to follow MacTavish with their backs against the mountain, while minding their distance from the edge as the ledge began to narrow. With their backs against the cold mountain surface, they worked their way sideways just like crabs.

Suddenly, MacTavish came to a halt and adjusted his M21 to a more comfortable position. He then reached for the ice-picks on his back and put his hands through the straps of the ice-picks and secured them tightly.

He then brought the ice-picks up and ordered the two, "Stay here and spot me, wait for my go." The two nodded and waited. With amazing flexibility, MacTavish swing the left side of his body 180 degrees after he dug his right pick into the ice. Once his stomach was against the Cliffside, MacTavish dug his left pick high above his head. He propelled himself up, using his spiked boots for extra support.

After climbing a few more feet, he kicked the ice with his spiked boots, checking if the ice was sturdy enough. "Alright, the ice is good. Follow me," MacTavish ordered as he continued his ascension.

John shimmied to where MacTavish was and started to climb. Roach then followed the two. They were making great progress; in a few minutes they would reach the top of the cliff. However, things changed to the bad when they reached halfway, as another MiG-29 flew over head. The sonic-boom the jet caused made the Cliffside to shake, causing ice to fall off and hit the men below. The Captain fared an even more perilous scenario: one of his ice-picks became loose and freed itself from the ice. MacTavish dangled dangerously as he struggled to regain control.

John held his breath and Roach started to sweat, nervously. If the Captain were to fall, he would collide into the two and they would all fall…and BAM…mission failed.

Thankfully, that didn't happen. MacTavish swung his right ice-pick back into the ice and continued to climb. Roach and John gave a sigh of relief and continued to climb. MacTavish soon reached the top, and waited for the others to join. Once John reached the ledge, MacTavish grabbed hold of one of John's hands and pulled him up. John got up and rolled his shoulders, and then he went to the ledge to pull Roach up. Once Roach was with them, he cracked his knuckles and saw where the Captain paced.

The Captain shuffled towards the two. He seemed too focus on the challenge that lied ahead. He then finally spoke, "Good luck, mates. I'll see you on the far side." He then spun on his heels and started to run.

John and Roach turned to each other, confused; whatever MacTavish meant by "the far side," it didn't sound good to both Roach and John.

Their suspicions were then realized when they saw the Captain sprinted towards the edge of the new cliff they got on and leaped off, right over a gorge, and slammed his ice-picks into the side of another cliff. Both Roach and John were too awe to join right away, as they hesitated, thinking how they can copy MacTavish with the extra gear they were both carrying. Roach then looked at John; he was worried that the added weight of the XM25 would cause John to fall off. Not only that, but they both worried that their approximately 180 pound mass would break the ice once they latch on.

MacTavish then waved at the two to hurry up and jump. John stepped forward; he was going next. His mind raced on with fear. He was used to gunfights, but nothing like this. _One wrong move and I'm dead…_John dreaded.

John took a deep breath and stepped back a bit. When he was ready, he sprinted towards the edge and jumped. His breath was caught in his throat as the wall of ice got closer. Once he was at the ice, he slammed both of his ice-picks into the ice. He looked up and saw that he made it perfectly. He was two feet below the Captain.

"Whew…" John sighed. He looked behind him and yelled, "Come on, Roach!"

Roach then took a few steps back, and then he gunned-it. He sprinted to the end and jumped. Unfortunately, the cliff siding he leapt off broke loose from under his weight as he pushed off, causing him to lose his sense of balance. Roach landed several feet below the Captain as he planted both picks into the ice. Unfortunately, he saw himself scrapping downwards. His weight and the awkward landing caused him to leave two deep scars into the Cliffside as he lid downwards.

"Hold on! Don't let go!" MacTavish yelled down at him.

John was struck with fear. He couldn't do anything. He just watched his friend continue to drag downwards.

Suddenly, Roach's descent was stopped when he reached a strong spot. However, his right ice-pick broke out of the ice and had him hanging, his feet dangling. Roach looked down and saw the fallen sheets of ice fall and shatter. His fear kicked in, his breathing becoming sporadic; he imagined if his bones would shatter if he fell. He then looked up and brought his right hand back up, grasping what was left of the handle. He thought he was going to make it, but that's when the ice started to crack.

_Oh shit…not now…please don't…_Roach panicked. Biting his lip, he tried to pull himself up. But the ice shattered…

Was this it for Roach? The lump in his throat prevented any air from exiting or entering as his ice-pick got free and he began to fall. However, by a strand of luck, someone got a firm grip on Roach's arm. He looked up and, as the icy dust settled, saw his savior. It was John Ramirez. Somehow, John risked his life to save Roach by releasing himself from his original holding and managed to catch himself and Roach after John got a firm grip on Roach's arm.

Roach's fear gradually washed away and he took a well-deserved breath. He then stared into John's clenched jaw and his milk-chocolate colored eyes and saw a diluted well of emotions.

Was it relief?

Anger?

Terror?

All of those emotions seemed appropriate at the time.

"Gah…no more donuts for you, Roach," John joked.

John then gestured his head upwards, telling Roach to follow MacTavish. With one-mighty heave, John used all of his God-given strength to throw Roach back up. With one arm, Roach swung one his ice-picks back into the ice. Roach panted into his other arm's sleeve, trying to calm his nerves while he watched both John and MacTavish resumed their climb. Once Roach was ready, he looked up and continued to climb.

MacTavish was the first to reach the top of the edge, and helped pull John and Roach up. Once all three men were at the top, they've noticed the smell of jet fuel. They were close. After climbing over two, small inclines, they saw the runway of the airbase on their left.

After holstering his M21 ERB, MacTavish went into a crouching position and looked at his men. "Roach, Savior, check your heartbeat sensors," MacTavish ordered.

Roach and John nodded. Following his orders, they pull open the plastic flap attached to the left side of their weapons. The flap held a small screen, illuminating a light-blue glow and ticked almost unnoticeably after every few seconds. Two blue dots appeared on both Roach's and John's screens.

"You two should see each other and me on the monitor. The blue-dots are two of us," MacTavish informed, quietly. He flicked his hand forward, ordering the group to move forward while he added, "Any unrecognized contacts will appear as white dots."

They shuffled a few yards through the deep snow. After they rounded a wall of rock they saw two Russian soldiers walking back to camp.

"Roach, Savior, these muppets don't even know we're here. Let's take this nice and slow," MacTavish ordered as he brought his weapon back up. "You two get the one on the left. On three. One…two…three."

When "three" came, Roach and John fired four shots total at the man on the left; two in the chest, one at the arm, and one at the head. MacTavish fired a single shot from his M21 and the round exited from the front of the man's head. The men collapsed into the snow, a pool of crimson blood seeping into the snow—creating a gruesome slushy—while brain matter sprinkled the snow.

"Nicely done," MacTavish commented while reloading his M21. "Let's move."

Since the path ahead of them was cleared of sentries, they continued shuffling through the snow. According to their intel, the path of this hill connects to the barracks of the airbase. While they walked, guns raised and adrenaline pumping into their veins, the icy wind doubled in speed and more ice and snow cling onto their bodies.

"Oh damn…" John cringed as he pulled down his beanie-cap to cover his ears.

"Shit, I can barely see," Roach whispered.

"The storm's brewing up," MacTavish advised, seemingly unaffected by the decrease of temperature.

Since they were partially blinded by the storm, Roach and John had to rely on their heartbeat sensors. After traveling for some time—relying on their wrist-watch GPS's—they reached a small drop-off, flags implanted at the edge.

MacTavish then walked to his right to a small over-watch and said, "Let's split up. I'll use the thermal scope and provide over watch from this ridge. Use the cover of the storm to enter the base. You'll be ghosts in this blizzard, so the guards won't see you until you're very close. Keep an eye on your heartbeat sensors." He climbed to the top of the ridge and added, "Good luck." Then MacTavish's body faded away in a thick, icy cloak.

John patted Roach's right shoulder and whispered, "Let's go."

Roach nodded and replied, "I got your back."

The duo then slid down the drop-off and silently trekked through the growing snow. Roach and John walked side-by-side, Roach checking the right while John checking the left, keeping eyes on their monitors and the path in front of them. Eventually, they reached a recently shoveled road.

After walking besides the road, they saw a truck parked in front of a small Quonset hut. Their heart-rates spiked; they heard faint beeps from their sensors. They looked at their monitors and saw two white dots. Then they looked through the snow and saw two sentries patrolling besides the Quonset hut; one was in front of the parked truck and the other was besides the hut.

If they hadn't checked their monitors, they would have blown their cover.

In an instant, Roach fired at the man besides the truck—blood misted in front of the man's skull—and John fired at the man besides the hut—one bullet at the jugular and one at the femoral artery.

"Nice shots," MacTavish commented on the radio, "Alright, I've tapped into their comms. Head southeast and plant your C4 at the fueling station."

The duo then stood on either side of the door of the hut. John peered through the door and saw a Russian sleeping in a chair. With one quick shot to the head, the Russian went into an eternal slumber. John and Roach went inside and saw that they were in the kitchen…

…and sitting on top of the counter was a mug of hut cocoa.

They couldn't resist; John quickly grabbed the mug and drank half of the hot, chocolate liquid. He then gave a small sigh of relief as he felt the warm content went down his throat. John then passed the remaining cocoa to Roach, and he too drank it and felt relief.

MacTavish somehow knew because he growled through the radio, "You lucky bastards…"

After getting their morale up, the two went through the back entrance of the kitchen Quonset hut. Behind the Quonset hut was a small building; a supply building. Roach took cover besides the door and peered inside. There was another Russian sleeping on a chair, his legs resting on top of a table in front of him, and another soldier smoking a cigarette at the doorway on the left. Roach raised his rifle, aimed at the sleeping soldier's head and pulled the trigger. John raised his and fired at the smoking Russian in the throat.

Roach and John entered the building when they heard some truck tires.

"There's a truck coming! Stay out of sight," MacTavish warned through the radio.

John then looked at the Russian he shot and panicked. The Russian's body was showing through the doorway. John ran to the body and dragged it to the center of the room. They hugged the walls and stayed away from the windows and scanned their monitors. They saw a quarter size white dot coming their way. They held their breath as the dot got closer…

And closer…

And closer…

Thankfully, the dot took a turn to the left on the monitor. Outside, the truck took a right turn on the road. As soon as the sound of the engine disappeared, Roach and John let out their held in breath. John peered through the door on the left and saw the road was clear. He held his hand up—his first two fingers pointed upward—and swirled his hand in a circular motion, telling Roach to form up. Once Roach formed up behind John, John then flicked his hand forward.

"Let's move out," John ordered.

They quietly walked outside, guns raised. They took the road on the right, as it leads to the airstrip. As they trekked through the snow, their monitors detected another soldier on their right. On their right was a small incline, and a sentry was patrolling near the edge.

Before either John or Roach can fire, MacTavish's voice came through the radio, haltering them in the eager tracks.

"He's mine."

And just like that, MacTavish fired a precise shot from his position. The slug entered the back of the Russian's neck, severing the skull from the spinal cord. The man collapse to the snow, his head barely attached to the remaining neck. Roach and John pondered on the Captain's position; they have no idea where the Captain was.

Eventually, they've reached the tarmac of the runway.

"Roach, Savior, the fueling station is near the northeast corner of the runway," MacTavish informed them.

Together, they vaulted over a railing and ran onto the tarmac.

"Hold up. I'm seeing some activity on the runway. Looks like twenty plus foot-mobiles heading your way," MacTavish warned, "Oh damn…that truck's coming back."

After hearing that, they were filled with madness. They all knew that they were in allotted time. Especially when they heard the truck tires squealed to a stop.

"Shit…roger that," Roach replied. He then turned to John and whispered, "We gotta hurry."

They ran past a refueling MiG-29, and they noticed that they can see through the snow storm clearer.

It wasn't a good sign…

"Oh crap; the storm's lulling off!" John panicked.

They've swiftly ran past the MiG, while minding their surroundings. Although they can't visibly see any sentries, their monitors showed a fine white line near the hangars beside them. John was scanning his surroundings so fast that he ran into the pumping station. He bumped into the pump and fell on his butt.

"That's the fueling station. You found it," MacTavish stated flatly.

Roach got to one knee and searched through his pack for the C4. John got up and watched Roach's back as he looked for the explosives. Roach then felt what seems to be a bundle of bricks taped together. He took it out and removed the cover of the adhesive tape and placed the C4 onto the fueling pump.

"Captain, the C4 is planted, 'Plan B' is a go," Roach whispered into the radio.

"Good. Hold on, I'm picking up more radio traffic about the satellite. Standby," MacTavish informed, "Got it. Sounds like the satellite's in the far hangar to the southwest of _your _location." The Captain let out a small snicker. "Race you there. Oscar Mike. Out."

"Roger that," both John and Roach replied, smiling.

Once again, the two men found themselves crossing the tarmac. Luckily for them, the storm brewed up again, rendering them invisible to nearby patrols. Although they tried to avoid most of the patrols, they had to kill one more set of guards. They both realized that the bodies will be discovered eventually, the constant radio checks guarantee it. It won't be long now before the whole base will know of their presence.

After crossing another tarmac and went back into the snow covered ground, they saw two hangars side-by-side. After scanning the surrounding area to make sure that their path was safe, they ran down the middle gap between the two hangers and jumped down into an alley behind the buildings.

They peered down the left side of the ally and they saw MacTavish standing beside a dumpster. He had an irritated or annoyed look on his face.

"Took the scenic route, eh?" MacTavish asked irritated.

John rolled his eyes. "Oh yeaah…we love to observe the MiGs and the majestic mountain peaks in this snowy weather," John replied, sarcastically.

MacTavish just shook his head before he made a full turn towards the back door of the hangar.

"Be ready for anything." MacTavish then reached for the door knob with his hand. He cautiously opened the door and entered. Once inside, MacTavish saw an enemy trooper at the end of the dark, narrow hallway, standing in front of his locker. He sprinted to the oblivious man, and tackled him to the array of lockers. MacTavish then forced the man down to the ground with his monstrous strength.

Roach and John entered the hallway and kept their distance. The man—now obviously knowing what was happening—was about to scream until MacTavish unsheathed his combat knife and drove it deep and ruthlessly into the man's neck. There was a blood-filled gargle that came from the dying soldier, then his feet twitched for the last time and he became still, a pool of crimson surrounding the wound; blood spurting out.

MacTavish then pulled out his blade from the man's neck and flicked the gore off. Once Roach and John formed up with the Captain, they entered an adjoining room, dimly lighted by dying fluorescent lights and the windows that covered the walls. In the middle of the room was the remaining wreckage of the satellite.

"Go upstairs and look for the ACS module," MacTavish ordered as he went to the wreckage, picked up one of the power-tools, and started to dismantle the satellite.

Roach and John went to the staircase the opposite direction of the satellite. Once they reachd the upstairs room—which resembles an office room—they scanned the desks for anything that looked important. John went to the table in the middle of the room and scanned the blue-prints and held up some devices in front of the helmet cam. Roach looked around the room and saw what they came here for, sitting right besides a computer. Roach walked up to the computer and snatched the ACS module and put it in his pack.

"Savior, I found what we came here for," Roach stated, "Let's regroup with the Captain."

John nodded and put down a device back onto the table. Together, they've moved towards the exit. But then, they heard the garage doors of the hangar opening. They looked at each other, confused and thinking the same thing. _Did MacTavish do that?_ No, it was too risky; it was out of the Captain's character. Something was wrong.

"Roach, Savior, I've been compromised," MacTavish warned, softly. The two crouched and looked around the corner. There stood MacTavish—hands up—and right in front of him was a large group of heavily armed Russians. "Keep a low profile and hold your fire…"

Roach swallowed nervously as he gripped the ACR tighter. John quickly switched his ACR for the XM25 grenade launcher on his back. The Captain was tough, but _this_ was out of his league. They all knew that they were going to be discovered, but not like this, this was bad.

Then a Russian officer yelled from a speaker phone.

"This is Major Petrov! Come out with your hands up! You have five seconds to comply!" Roach and John translated in their mind.

MacTavish blinked slowly and grind his teeth. Softly, MacTavish ordered, "Roach, go to 'Plan B'."

Suddenly realizing that he had the switch, Roach rummaged for the detonation switch as the death count began.

"5…"

Roach found the switch.

"4…"

He turned it on, a green light illuminating from a small bulb on the front.

"3…"

He squeezed the remote.

An eruption of fire, gas, smoke, and shrapnel filled the airbase. The explosion was massive; it shook the entire hanger and knocked most of the Russian troops on their butts. The explosion caused a chain-reaction as the refueling MiGs started to explode. The Russians turned around to see the explosion.

MacTavish turned to where his two men were positioned and saw John standing up with the XM25 grenade launcher ready.

"Captain, get down!" John screamed. MacTavish then jumped out of the blast radius as John fired two grenades. The grenades exploded in the group of troopers. The shrapnel left the Russian troops in bloody ribbons.

MacTavish raised his rifle and shot any enemy troopers that were outside. Roach and John ran to the stairs. Roach shot any enemy troopers MacTavish hadn't already taken out while John continued to fire grenades at troopers that were behind cover.

"Stay close and hug the wall!" MacTavish yelled as he continued to fire bullets, "We'll use the MiGs for cover and cross the tarmac to the southeast!"

Roach ran down the rest of the stairs while John vaulted over the hand rails and fell four feet. The three rushed to the side of the hangar, firing at troops that dared to aim at them. The tables have turned: in the beginning, it was a stealth mission…now it was a full out war. MacTavish took a quick peek through the opening and saw a path of opportunity.

"Roach, Savior! Follow me! Let's go!" MacTavish barked through the screaming of the attacking troops and the gunfire.

They began to sprint, blind firing at enemy troops and ducking their heads so they won't get hit.

"Son of a bitch!" Roach cursed as he felt a bullet flew over his head.

They eventually took cover behind a row of concrete road blocks.

"Roach, Savior, head for that MiG, I'll cover you!"

At first, the two hesitated, after seeing many enemy troopers near the MiG. They took a deep breath while the Captain killed some of the enemy stationed at the MiG. They closed their eyes, and let the adrenaline flow through their veins. Together, the two vaulted over the concrete obstacles and ran towards the MiG at unnatural speeds and let loose blind fire. The plane that the two were heading exploded, killing any enemy troopers around it. Once by the wreckage, they reloaded their rifles and waited for the Captain to join them.

The Captain sprinted to the two's location, while they kill attacking troops. Eventually, the Captain reached their location.

"Alright, my turn: cover me!" The Captain got out of cover and sprinted to the next MiG that was in front of a barracks positioned on top of a hill. John and Roach stood up and fired at the troops at the barracks. Soon, the guards were eliminated and MacTavish reached the MiG. "Roach, Savior, get over here!" MacTavish beckoned. Then, they heard some engines revving.

"What the hell?" Roach cringed.

John narrowed his eyes, looking where the noise was coming from. Then, he saw a pair of snowmobiles with troopers on them. "Damn…they're on snowmobiles, too," John informed, "Roach, meet up with the Captain, I'll take care of the snowmobiles."

Roach then ran out of cover and sprinted towards the Captain's location. John focused on firing at the snowmobiles. If he was lucky, the driver-less snowmobiles would either collide into enemy troops that were on the runway or collide into other snowmobiles. Suddenly, John felt something hit his vest and knocked the wind out of him. He panted, but he regained his composure.

Roach then made it to MacTavish, unharmed. Soon, it was John's turn to make his run; he sprinted and blind-fired at the enemy troops. He, too, managed to reach MacTavish and Roach.

After reloading his M21 ERB, MacTavish barked, "Alright, we're going to that drop-off at the East! I'll go first, cover me!"

"Yes, sir!" both Roach and John replied.

MacTavish then ran out of cover for the third time and ran towards the edge of the small hill. Soon, Roach ran towards the edge of the hill, followed by John. Now that the men were regrouped at the edge, they slid down the snowy hill. At the bottom were a wooden shack and some spruces. Once at the bottom, the three men turned around and fired at any attackers that appeared at the top of the hill. Their dead bodies rolled down the hill, leaving trails of blood in the snow.

Soon after the troopers were taken care of, a snowmobile with two passengers was perched at the top of the hill. John quickly took care of the enemy troops on the snowmobile. Then a pair of snowmobiles caught up and soared over the hillside, avoiding the men's line of fire.

"Dammit, they're going around the shack," John growled as MacTavish ran for cover besides the shack.

The other men joined the Captain just in time to see MacTavish slam the ice-pick into the chest of the driver of the first snowmobile. The vehicle glided to a stop in front of the shack. The last snowmobile zoomed past and stopped in the center. The two enemy troops got off the vehicle, but they wouldn't shoot a single round, as the team finished them off.

The two snowmobiles were now left unattended…and up for grabs.

"Roach, Savior, take that snowmobile! Let's get the hell out of here!" MacTavish ordered as he ran to one of the snowmobiles.

Roach got into the driver's seat of the other snowmobile while John sat behind him. Roach turned on the engine, and then he saw John handing a G18 machine pistol, butt-first, to him.

As Roach took the G18, John pointed to the magazine bag slung over his shoulder and said, "If you need a new mag, tell me." John then slammed a new magazine into his ACR's receiver.

Roach nodded as he placed the new gun into his thigh holster. He squeezed the gas and they began to glide towards the edge of the next hill.

John's heart thumped through his chest. The hill _was_ steep. _Oh shit…_John thought.

Then the team skid down the hill, the wind whipping against their faces.

"Kilo Six-One, the primary exfil point is compromised! We're en route to the backup LZ using enemy transport! Meet us there! Over!" MacTavish yelled into his radio.

Before the pilot's reassuring voice could reply, John saw a patrol of enemy snowmobiles chasing them. John raised his rifle and steadied his aim. With all the accuracy he could muster, John fired at the enemy snowmobiles. He managed to pick some of them off.

"Guys, we have to drive faster!" John yelled as he continued to fire.

Some of the snowmobiles got in front of John's and Roaches snowmobile. Roach took hold of the G18 and fired at the enemy snowmobiles, while steering with one hand. Soon, he ran out of ammo in the submachine pistol.

"Mag!" Roach yelled as he passed the empty G18 to John. John quickly took it, took a new magazine from the bag, inserted it into the gun, and loaded up the chamber. He then passed the gun back to Roach.

As the men continued to fire and kill enemy troops, they finally got a reply from the pilot.

"Bravo Six, this is Kilo Six-One, roger that, out."

"Thank God…" John murmured.

MacTavish then looked over his shoulder and swore under his breath. "More tangos to the rear! Just outrun them! Go! Go!"

Roach nodded, as if the Captain could see him. He continued to fire at the enemy transports that got in front of him, managing to kill at least two before he had to use both hands to make a sharp turn. Behind him, John didn't anticipate the sharp turn as he nearly flew out of the snowmobile and yelled, "HOLY SHIT!"

MacTavish was filled with distraught when he heard John yelling. He looked beside him and saw John was okay. "Don't slow down! Keep moving or your dead!" the Captain yelled.

They continued to make sharp turns, swerving between trees and their exposed roots. They ramped up a hill and flew over the top. They made a rough landing on top of a frozen lake. The rough landing caused some bad luck to John: upon impact, John lost his grip on his ACR and it dropped onto the ice.

"Shit!" John swore. He thought of borrowing Roach's ACR, but they don't have the time to un-sling the gun from his shoulder. So…John had to use the USP handgun. He didn't have a lot of magazines for it, so every shot had to count.

To make matters worse: an attack helicopter appeared and fired missiles at the team. The missiles missed, but it was close. John took his XM25 and loaded a magazine into the receiver. What he planned was nearly impossible, but he was willing to try it. The attack 'copter turned around and flew towards Roach's and John's snowmobile head on. John armed it and aimed at the cockpit.

_Please, let it work…_John hoped. He didn't bother to adjust the detonating distance. Once the 'copter was close, John fired a full magazine of grenades at the cockpit. The first two grenades cracked the cockpit's window, the third one shattered the glass, and the fourth and final grenade killed the pilot, raining deadly shards of shrapnel. The series of explosions also ruined the helicopter's rotor blades. The helicopter spun out of control, a veil of black smoke surrounding the vehicle. Roach accelerated and the helicopter crashed far behind them.

"Hell of a shot, Savior!" both MacTavish and Roach praised John.

The team looked behind them and they saw that they were still chased by three snowmobiles.

"Roach, hand me your G18! I'm almost out of ammo!" John barked.

Roach nodded, took the G18 from the holster and handed it to John. John took it and fired at the snowmobiles as the team began to drive up the slope of a hill.

"Bravo Six, we're at bingo fuel. What's your status, over?" the pilot informed via radio.

Even though that Roach and John were behind MacTavish, they can sense the man's irritation.

"Kilo Six-One, we're taking heavy fire but we're almost there! Standby!" MacTavish replied as the team began to soar down a steep hill. Spruces populated the hillside, creating a deadly array of obstacles. "Pin the throttle! Keep going!" the Captain yelled at Roach and John.

Roach did just that; he squeezed the acceleration and let gravity increase their speed. As they soared down the hillside, John managed to kill two of the pursuing snowmobiles while the last one crashed into a tree. John gave out a small relief; he was almost out of ammo. A few rounds were left in the G18 and he ran out of mags for the USP and XM25.

"We're clear!" John informed the team.

Roach then felt a sudden wave of relief as they were no longer chased. He looked up from the dashboard, his eyes trailed down to the end of the hill. He swore he felt his heart skipped a beat when he saw what was at the bottom…

Or maybe what wasn't at the bottom…

At the bottom of the hill there was a large gap that lies between them and the exfil point.

"G-Guys…?" Roach stuttered into the radio.

John turned around to see what Roach was stuttering about. When he saw the gap, the color in his face faded away.

"Oh *#~$..." John swore.

Then MacTavish then looked what the commotion was all about. He followed their stares and felt a sudden pang of fear. "Oh hell…hold on!"

Both Roach and MacTavish gripped the handles tightly as John wrapped his arms around Roach's waist; they all braced for the eagle-like jump. Roach and John couldn't breathe as a lump formed in their throats as they felt their vehicles ramped off the edge.

Their hearts fluttered and they can feel gravity trying to pull them down as they were still mid-air. Falling would have been disastrous, but that didn't happen.

The landing was rough; broke most of the underside of the snowmobiles. They glided past a few spruces, and then they finally saw the CH-46 Sea Knight, their ticket out of there.

"There's the chopper, let's go!"

"Bravo Six we have you on visual. Get your asses on board! We're running on fumes here!"

* * *

Roach rested his head against the wall of the chopper and panted. They left the area a while ago, and the battle was still in Roach's mind. Roach turned to John and saw that he was equally tired. Then he saw John wincing and snarling in pain.

MacTavish reached out to him. "John, you alright?" MacTavish asked, worried.

"Gah…my chest…it hurts…" John panted.

"Are you sure it's just your chest?" Roach asked. John nodded.

Roach and MacTavish then proceeded to remove John's body armor. Once the vest was off, they saw that there was no blood. John turned off the helmet's camera, removed the helmet, and painfully raised his arms over his head as MacTavish pulled his shirt off, seeing what was causing the problem.

"_Phwoar,_" MacTavish said, "That's going to be a monster of a bruise." There was a livid patch on John's sternum. However, that wasn't what caught both Roach's and MacTavish's attention. Throughout John's chest, there were a series of healed scars. They were linear, but jagged as if John was cut with a dull and rusted blade. "You collecting distinguishing features or something?"

John realized that he was hit by a round earlier. He didn't feel the pain because of the adrenaline that was in his veins. "Hit me square on," John replied, panting. "Armor works though, eh?"

MacTavish removed his beanie-cap and listened to John's breathing with his ear pressed to his chest.

"Ow."

"Shut up and breathe."

John took shallow breaths, wincing. MacTavish straightened up and nodded. "Can't hear any pneumothorax," he said, "But let's keep an eye on him. The air trapped inside can build up. Might be fractured ribs, might just be a bad bruise."

As John slowly put his shirt back on, Roach asked him, "What's with all the scars, John?"

John looked at him and replied, "Let's just say that it's not a good idea to keep a Marine as a hostage."

Roach nodded and stared at the floor for a few brief moments. "Hey John…thanks for saving my life."

John gave a small, reassuring smile. "No problem, Gary. That's what Marines do; we watch each other's backs and we don't leave any one behind," John said.

"Yeah…but still…my daughter almost became fatherless."

John solemnly nodded. After all…it was bitterly true.

"You're both just living up to your name," MacTavish announced. John nodded, immediately understanding what the Captain said. However, Roach was the only one confused. MacTavish saw the confusing in Roach's eyes and added, "Just like a roach…you're hard to kill, Gary."

He then immediately thought about the day he earned his title. He let the captured roach go, instead of killing it. Neither John nor Gary thought about this new reason. It was strange, but it was becoming to make sense. Gary—or Roach—looked at John and mouthed the words "thank you," for not suggesting a name inadequate, like Pest or Rat.


	7. The Unexpected

A/N: Hey there! Well, I got good news and bad news. Bad news is that I'm on a family trip to the Philippines for the entire the month of July. That means that the mission chapters will take a longer time to be written and chapter updates will be delayed a bit. However the good news, is that I have the latest updated back up file for my stories in a flash drive and I have internet connection.

Now that's out of the way, enjoy the new chapter!

* * *

It has been four days since the ACU mission. The infiltration team managed to get back to base safely, and a medical team checked up on all three men. John's injury wasn't severe; all he got were a fractured seventh and eighth rib and a…pretty bad bruise. Everyone else that didn't go with them asked them so many questions on how they did.

Anyway, today was Sunday; there was no training and everyone has a free day.

In the barracks, John was sitting on top of his bunk and was opening a wrapped box. It was a care-package from his family back home. He was excited to see what his parents, his brothers, and his sister put in the box. The only thing that was stopping him from tearing the box apart was the bandages wrapped around his torso. He mustn't over-exert himself, or risk straining his recently healed ribs and the bruise on his chest. John then opened the box and gave a wide smile on what he saw. There were small boxes filled with Louis's homemade coffee, a tin can filled with Katrina's hot cocoa, a pack of cigarettes from James's homemade special stash, photographs from his parents and his siblings, and—best of all—wrapped in a plastic wrap was John's electronic book tablet, accompanied with its charging cable.

_I can't believe that I left this behind…_John scolded himself.

Installed in the tablet was a collection of favorite Ebooks that John bought. There were many genres, from Mystery to Adventure to Horror. John turned it on and saw that his collection was still there, plus a few new additions. He put it on his pillow and started to take out the other contents. The homemade presents were just as special.

John was starting to put the presents in his locker as he heard someone walking towards him. He turned around and saw that it was Captain MacTavish.

The Captain gave a small smile. "Got a care-package, eh?"

John returned the smile and resumed putting the things in his locker. "Yeah, my siblings gave me a lot of homemade presents; cocoa, coffee, even a pack of cigarettes." He then closed the locker and put the padlock back on. "Is there something you want to say, sir?" John asked.

"As a matter a fact, yes," MacTavish replied, "We have a pair of new recruits coming in about ten minutes. I want you to introduce them to the facility and try to make friends with them. You up for it?"

"Sure thing, sir."

Together, the two men left the barracks and walked towards the Northern gate.

While they were waiting for the bus to arrive, MacTavish faced John and asked, "Is your brother Louis…the best choice to test the Warp Drive?"

John scratched the back of his head, trying to come up an explanation. "Well…I can see your point, sir," John admitted, "Most of the scientists and the Air Force personnel expected a…a pilot to volunteer. However…uh…well…they chickened out. No one expected a Marine—especially a grunt—to volunteer. Louis…well, let's just say that always likes a challenge and will always see it through."

"I know; I saw his courage during our Joint-Op," MacTavish replied, "I'm just a bit worried that a man with no flight experience test a highly expensive—probably one of a kind—prototype."

"Don't worry, sir. No matter what, Louis is always eager to learn something new. Let it be a new rifle or flight training."

"I hope you're right. It'll be horrifying if Louis gets killed in the process."

Soon, the bus drove down the road and glided to a stop in front the guard post. The door folded to the side and they saw a man stepping out, carrying a duffle bag. He was South Korean, dark brown eyes, black hair, and wore an ACU uniform. His rank insignia was different from the U.S. military. It was two horizontal black lines.

The soldier put his duffel bag down on the ground. He then bowed and said, "Greetings, Ildeungbyeong Matthew Hwang reporting for duty, sir."

As Ildeungbyeong Hwang got up from his bow, MacTavish cracked a small smile. "Please, Ildeungbyeong Hwang, we're not that formal here. Just a simple salute is fine."

"Oh, I'm sorry; old habits die hard," Matt replied, "Also, don't say Ildeungbyeong, you're having a hard time pronouncing it. I believe the equivalent is…Private First Class."

For some reason, John found this man strangely…familiar. It feels like that John met him before.

"Matthew…did you go to an American school in Daegu?" John asked, "…and were you in the school band…as a xylophone player?"

Hwang was taken aback. _How does he know that?_ Hwang thought. "Yes…how do you know this?"

John was an eyebrow and grinned in triumph. "Don't you recognize me? It's me: John Ramirez! You know…first chair Alto Saxophone player?"

Hwang gave a wide smile as he remembered John. "John? It's really you!" Hwang shook John's hand and added, "How are you? I heard all about your brother Louis volunteering for the Warp Drive test!"

"I've been doing well, Matt," John replied, "Its damn good to see you again."

"So, I see you two already met," an old, low voice said behind them. They all recognized the voice. They turned around and saluted. Standing right in front of them was General Shepherd. The General returned the salute and ordered, "At ease. So, you two met before?"

"Yes, sir," John replied, "Matt and I were in Daegu American School for a year. We had the same classes, at the same periods."

"We had a….friendly rivalry and competition between us, sir," Matt added, "In the rivalry; we tried to be the first one to finish work with the best grade than the other."

"Back in school, our classmates usually call Matthew 'Gear', because of his ability to work efficiently with computers and other electronics, sir."

"Which is my nickname while I'm here, sir," Matthew—or Gear—concluded.

"Pardon me for asking, General," MacTavish interrupted, "But is there a reason you're waiting with us, sir?"

"I'm here to pick up the other recruit," General Shepherd replied.

After hearing that, the three men got a little confused. Why would the General be after this one recruit?

Then they heard someone walking down the steps of the bus. Gear, MacTavish, and John turned around to see the other recruit. However, it is not who they expected. The person wore a black cloak instead of an ACU uniform. It wasn't the cloak that surprised them, it was the person _herself_. Standing before them was a Caucasian woman around 24 years of age, blond hair tied into a ponytail, and sharp blue eyes. The woman put her bag down and saluted General Shepherd.

"Ah, welcome to Task Force 141, Claire," Shepherd announced, "Follow me to your accommodations."

Claire didn't say anything and just followed Shepherd to her quarters. As the pair walked past John, MacTavish, and Gear, the three men just stared at Claire, surprised and worried.

"Is it just me, or did General Shepherd do something…risky?" Gear asked out loud.

"Yup."

"You got that right, mate."

Later…

As soon as Claire was introduced to the Task Force, she was the topic on all of the men's conversations. Why is she here? Is it safe for her to be here? Will she carry on the mission? Is she single?

Claire avoided staying among the men of the Task Force. As John was watching a group of soldiers talking about her pass by, he doesn't blame her. _God knows how long since any of these men ever saw a woman…_John thought. However, John needs to practice what he preaches. He was mesmerized by her beauty.

_She has beautiful eyes…fierce and wild…_John thought. He then mentally kicked himself. _Dammit John! Don't be a dog!_

Then, he heard some yelling from the Intelligence Department. John and the rest of the Task Force looked at the building, trying to find the cause of the commotion. He saw Gear running out of the building, panting and panicking.

"There's been a massacre at the Moscow National Airport!" Gear screamed, "And Russia found an American accomplice!"

After hearing that, it was utter chaos. The Task Force men outside sprinted inside the Intelligence Department building, wanting to know what happened. Inside the main room, the monitor was showing a live broadcast from CNN.

"This is a breaking news alert," the news castor announced, "Earlier today, five heavily armed terrorists entered the Moscow Zakhaev National airport and killed hundreds of civilians. Although the airport security staff tried their best, they were no match to the weapons carried by the terrorists. According to Russian law enforcements, they found one of the terrorists dead in the cargo area. The results from forensics identified the man as Joseph Allen, a Private First Class in the United States' Army Rangers. Outraged, Russian officials demanded an explanation from the U.S. According to CIA director, Mr. Sullivan quoted, 'Allen was undercover to infiltrate Vladimir Makarov's defenses…' and that 'the operation was a blunder'…

As the news went on, the news station showed graphic pictures taken at the scene. Hundreds of mangled, civilian bodies littered the floor of the airport. No one was spared, not from the young to the elderly. John felt a tear rolled down his cheeks when he saw a picture of a mother huddling her son, their bodies riddled with bullets.

MacTavish's face was filled with rage and shock. He stared at the monitor with a sharp frown. General Shepherd was in the same state.

"The Russians isn't going to let this massacre go unanswered," Ghost said, "It's going to be bloody."

MacTavish gave out a small sigh. "Too right, mate. Now, in the eyes of the world, they're the victims," MacTavish agreed, "No one is going to say a word when the Russians club every American they can reach."

"Makarov was one step ahead of us," Shepherd said, "Now he's left thousands of bodies at the feet of an American."

"We're the only one's who know it was Makarov's op. Our credibility died with Allen. We need proof," MacTavish said.

"Follow the shell. Gear!"

"On it, sir," Gear replied. He was typing fast on a keyboard. He did a trace analysis on the shells that were collected at the airport and he tried to find a match in the database. He then got a 99.9% match from a shell collected from a guns dealer in South America. "Got it; bringing it onscreen now."

The monitor then showed two mug shots. On one picture, it showed a Caucasian man in his early thirties, wore a hunter's jacket and a red cap. On the other picture, it showed another man, but he was Brazilian and he wore a simple t-shirt and jeans. It looked like that he was in his late twenties.

"Alerjando Rojas," General Shepherd announced.

"Never heard of him, sir," MacTavish admitted.

"You know him as Alex the Red. He supplied the assault," Shepherd pointed to the man with the baseball cap. "His base of operations is at Rio de Janeiro."

"One bullet to unleash the fury of a whole nation," MacTavish murmured, "Which means…"

"He's our ticket to Makarov. Is your men ready for the assignment, Captain?"

"The 141 is ready for anything, General."

Meanwhile behind MacTavish and General Shepherd, a man named Joker saw John standing behind Claire. He thought it would be funny if he pushed John into Claire. When he thought not no one was looking at him, Joker quietly walked behind John and "gently" shoved him forward.

John stumbled forward a bit and braced himself by putting his hand on anything in front of him. He looked behind and glared at Joker. "Joker, what was that for?" John growled. He saw Joker holding back laughs, biting his lower lip tightly. Wondering what Joker found funny, John looked forward and saw Claire glaring at him, angrily. Her face flushed red. John's face turned pale, and he slowly looked down to where his hand was.

His hand was on Claire's butt…

He immediately jerked his hand back and stepped a few steps back. John's face reddened from the embarrassment and he started to sweat. "W-wait!" John stammered, trying to come up with an explanation. "Joker pushed me into you! I didn't do it on purpose…it was an accident!"

"You better hope it was," Claire threatened.

John looked back at front and saw that everyone—including Shepherd and MacTavish—were all staring at him.

"Everyone is dismissed to prepare," General Shepherd ordered. As John started to turn around, Shepherd added, "Except you…John. The Captain and I need a word with you."

John's face even got paler and he felt miserable. _I really hope I'm not going to get court martial for this…_

As everyone else started to leave, John's hands fumbled around each other nervously. He tried to come up with an explanation before the General and the Captain reach him. When Joker was starting to leave, John couldn't hold back his temper. As Joker walked past John, John gave a hard, painful slap to the back of Joker's head. Joker didn't say anything and just left. As the Captain and the General reached him, John got on his knees and stammered, "I-I didn't do it on purpose, sirs! Joker…he pushed me into her!"

General Shepherd put his hand up, interrupting John. "Relax, we saw what happened," Shepherd reassured John. "The Captain and I wanted to talk to you about…Claire."

"Um…what about her, sir?" John asked as he got up.

"Claire is a Corporal in the Army Rangers, she was transferred into our unit while we were at the Tian Shan Mountains," MacTavish said.

"But sir…is that really wise to transfer a woman into a Task Force, completely made out of men?" John asked, "God knows how long since any of these men have seen a woman."

"That's why we asked you to stay, Corporal," Shepherd announced, "We think that you're responsible enough to handle this job I'm about to put you through. We want you to be her 'bodyguard'."

John's fear kicked in. "B-but sir…I don't think that she'll appreciate that. She threatened me for that…little incident a few minutes ago."

"She won't hurt you, least the Captain or I'm around. Besides, she knows about your position," General Shepherd replied.

John stayed quiet for a few brief moments. "I don't have a choice in all this, do I?"

"You sure don't."

John gave out a small sigh. "Well…is there anything else I should know about her, General?"

"Well…her mother disappeared when she was young, about 10 years old. She takes orders very seriously and always places the mission first. Oh…and John…"

"She's my daughter."

Things…just got a lot harder for John Ramirez.


	8. Following the Shell

About twenty of the Task Force's soldiers—which included the Captain, Ghost, John, Claire, Roach, Meat, Royce, and Gear—arrived in Rio de Janeiro the next day. They managed to find an abandoned warehouse within the city, which they used as their base of operations. Their gear that they brought with them consists of a wide array of fire arms, explosives, and electronic equipment for intelligence gathering.

Gear was busy typing in a laptop, already working in finding Alex's precise location when John walked up behind him.

John looked over Gear's shoulder, seeing what Gear is doing. "Crap…I forgot what this is called…" John said, seeing a map of the city with some areas highlighted.

Gear cracked a small smile. "It's called Geo-profiling, Savior," Gear said. "I highlighted areas of the city where officials raided caches of Alex's weapons. I'm trying to find an overlapping area from these zones, which could be Alex's base. I expand the highlighted areas every two square blocks if I don't get a zone."

John was a little worried about Gear's method. "Won't it be easier to add other variables…maybe like, um…Alex's gasoline receipts or things like that?"

Gear just stared blankly at John. "Damn…didn't think of that. Thanks Savior."

"No problem."

John then walked around the warehouse, observing what the others were doing. Captain MacTavish and Ghost were busy discussing strategy while hunched over a map of the city. Roach and Claire were checking their gear and cleaning their weapons. Meat, Royce, and several other troops went into the city, looking for any leads that might help the Task Force locate Alex.

John is a man that can't sit around and do nothing.

So…John walked up to MacTavish and said, "Excuse me, Captain, but I'm going into the city. I wanna see if I can get any leads."

MacTavish looked up from the map of the city. "Sure, go ahead, Savior," MacTavish agreed. "But you still need to follow the 'buddy system'." He then looked at Claire and added, "Claire, why don't you go with him?"

Claire looked up from her dismantled M4 Carbine. "Yes, sir," Claire said. She put the parts of the carbine on top of a table and followed John. Together, the pair exited the warehouse and walked in the populated streets of Rio de Janeiro. They wore regular street clothing; nothing that would advertise them as soldiers or mercenaries. John wore simple jeans, white and black-striped sneakers, and a light blue polo. Claire wore shorts that were rolled up a little bit above her knees, flip-flops, and a velvet-colored tank-top.

John dug his hands into his pockets and he did a quick glance at Claire. He quickly looked away; his face a little red and warm. In truth, Claire looked nothing like a soldier. Her arms were slender, her legs were well toned, and her curves…she had the body of a model.

_She is…beautiful…_John thought. He mentally kicked himself again and also bit down his tongue, drawing a little bit of blood._ Dammit John! If the General knew what you're thinking, you'll either end up court martialed or beaten up…or both! She's his daughter!_

John stopped walking and turned to Claire. "So…" John said, trying to come up with a conversation with Claire. She looked at him and waited for an answer; her fierce, blue eyes looking deep at John's calm, milk-chocolate eyes.

There was an awkward silence between them; they only heard the conversations from the other civilians. "About what happened—back at the base—I'm…sorry for what had happened," John apologized.

She shook her head dismissively, as she replied, "It's okay, Ramirez," Claire reassured John, "My father told me what really happened."

John gave a small smile of relief. "Good…"

As they continued walking, Claire was wondering where they're going. "Ramirez, do you know where you're going?" Claire asked John.

Looking over his shoulder, John replied, "Well…the local pub."

He then felt a strong grip on his left arm. Claire glared at him, a spark of anger in her eyes.

"What?" Claire growled.

John felt a bit nervous. He tried to shrug off her grip, but was unsuccessful. "Let me explain: you hear many interesting things from a local bar. Thugs are too stupid from being drunk to keep their mouths shut. They'll spill anything."

Claire released her grip from John's arm. "Well…I guess…that's true," Claire reluctantly agreed.

Soon, they stood at the entrance of a local pub called the "Blue Pearl."

"Are you sure that this will work?" Claire asked.

"Believe me, it does," John stated, "One day, me and my Marine friends decided to get a few drinks in a bar—I had soda, I'm not much of a drinker. Anyways, we were sitting at a table, talking about past missions, the sorts. Then we saw some loud mouth drunk messing around the place. Eventually he blathered something about having an affair with someone else's wife. You know what the catch was?"

"What?" Claire asked, curious.

John cracked a smile from the memory. "The husband was there. The husband was sober enough to hear the drunk. There was a huge bar fight soon afterwards. My friends and I had to break it up."

Claire didn't smile, but she had her mouth slightly agape. She understood. "Ohhh…"

They walked inside and saw that the bar was busy. Most of the bar seats and tables were occupied. There was a wide collection of alcohol displayed on the wall behind the bar counter. There were patrons playing at the billiards table. All in all, this bar was perfect to hear things, but there's one problem…

Claire placed a hand on John's shoulder. When he looked at her, Claire seemed a little bit worried.

"I REALLY hope that you understand Portuguese," Claire whispered.

"Don't worry," John reassured her, "Dad gave me the Rosetta Stone™ program during summer vacation after Freshman year. Spent many vacations studying every—and I mean EVERY—language available in the program." He scratched his head, somewhat embarrassed. "So…I'm an unofficial Linguist." He pointed to a small round table in the epicenter of the room. "Why don't you save us that table over there? Do you want a drink, also?"

"Just a ginger ale," Claire replied as she walked to the table.

John walked over to the counter and waited for the bar tender. A Brazilian man wiping a beer mug with a clean rag walked to John.

* * *

A/N: The speeches that start and end with " / " are said in Portuguese.

* * *

"/So what can I do for you/?" The bartender asked in Portuguese.

John leaned forward on the counter, smiling a bit. "/A Coca-Cola and a ginger ale, please,/" John replied in perfect Portuguese.

The man smiled and he turned around, getting the drinks. "/I never saw you and your stunning friend enter here before,/" the bartender said over his shoulder, "/Are you guys new here?/"

"/Well, kind of. We are tourists; we want to explore the city a bit,/" John replied.

The bartender chuckle a bit as he gave John his drinks. "/Are you two a couple or married?/"

John's face slightly blushed as he took the drinks. "/Um…n-no. We're just friends,/" John replied.

"/Meh, whatever./" The bartender then left to attend other waiting patrons.

John walked back to Claire's table, still a little bit flustered from the bartender's comment. He gave Claire her drink and sat down with her.

"Are you flustered about something?" Claire asked, noticing the red in John's face.

"N-no," John stammered. When he looked at Claire, he knew that she didn't buy it. He gave a small sigh and changed his statement. "The bartender thought that we were a couple."

When she heard John, her face turned a bit reddish as well. "Well what did you say?"

"I just said that we were just friends. Nothing else."

"Good." Claire looked around the bar. She then looked at John and asked, "Do you understand all of this commotion Ramirez?"

"Yes, but nothing significant." John finished the rest of his soda and placed the empty bottle on the table. It was getting late; the sun was starting to set. _This is taking…a long time. I hear things of affairs, drugs, but nothing about weapons trafficking or Alejandro or his assistant._ He leaned on the back of his chair. _So now what?_

"Hey Claire, do you have a nickname?" John asked.

Without looking up from her drink, Claire replied, "No; I think it's a bit too childish."

"Oh…so Claire, you were in the Army Rangers?" John asked.

Claire looked up from her now empty glass. "Yes, I was, as soon as women were allowed to. I believe I met your younger brother, James."

* * *

A/N: Well, the story takes place in the future. I guess by then, the rules must have changed.

* * *

"You have?"

"Yeah, I think I have. Did he have black dyed hair, about twenty-one years old, dark brown eyes, and…slightly taller than you?" John nodded. "Then I guess that was him then." Then she remembered something odd about James, John's younger brother. "Wait, he's married and has a daughter, right? How old is his daughter?"

"Oh…I think I know why you're asking that," John interrupted, "James adopted a seven year old girl about six months ago."

Then he heard something interesting on his left.

"/Gah…that good for nothing trader is slacking off again!/" a drunken man said, his words slurred.

"/He and his assistant are slacking off on their job!/" another drunk agreed with the other man.

_Bingo!_ John thought. He looked at Claire and saw that she was talking to him. He leaned forward, pretending to listen to her while he listened to the drunken pair.

"/The Militia is still low on weapons, and the Red is not giving us any weapons,/" the first drunk added, "/Do you know where they are, Luis?"

John heard—presumably Luis—took a swig of whiskey from a glass. "/I don't know where the Red is, but I think I know where his assistant is. I believe it's…the Hotel Rio/."

"/Hehe…good. Perhaps we can make a…*hic*…visit tomorrow noon./"

"/Agree. Let's meet here at 10 first, and then make our visit. Now let's get out of here; I think…*hic*….our ride is still waiting outside./"

John heard the two men get out of their seats. _If they're leaving by a car…I need that license plate number._ He turned his head and saw two men wobbling towards the exit. They both wore regular street clothes, but one was wearing a Brazilian soccer jersey, the one you see at the FIFA tournament, while the other had a bandana wrapped around his head.

"John?" Claire asked, interrupting John's thoughts. "What are you looking at?"

John bolted up on his seat; he cracked a small smile. He looked around, making sure no one was looking at him, and then he leaned forward towards Claire.

"I got a lead, Claire," John whispered. Claire leaned forward, listening intently. "You see those two men leaving, the ones with the bandana and the soccer jersey?" Claire looked at the exit and saw the two men John described.

"So what are you going to do?" Claire asked.

John took out a carton filled with James's homemade cigarettes—which he got from a care-package. "Going out to smoke," John hinted. It wasn't the whole truth; John just needed an excuse to get outside. Claire gave a small nod, catching the hint. John then got out of his seat and added, "Stay here." Then he walked outside, following the pair of men.

Outside, John stood beside a newspaper stand, lighting the end of the cigarette. On John's left, the two men walked towards a white van. Without looking up, John scanned the rear of the van for the license number. Soon, he found the plate.

_JFW 618…gotcha…_John thought. He then saw the location where the license plate was registered. _Huh…a Sao Paolo license plate…in Rio de Janeiro…this will make our job a helluva lot easier._

The two men entered the passenger section of the van and drove off.

_A designated driver...smart._

Inside…

Claire was waiting inside for John to come back inside. However, she doesn't know that she was in danger. When she wasn't looking, a group of men walked up to Claire. When Claire saw them, the men had perverted grins on their faces.

_Not good…_Claire realized.

One of the men spoke in Portuguese. When he realized that Claire didn't understand him, he said in blunt English, "Hey baby! Come with us…we give you good time…" The other men chuckled in agreement with him.

_Let's see what I'm up against: five men, all in their twenties, apparently drunk…I can handle them if they try anything funny._

She just shrugged them off.

One of the men tried to make advancement towards Claire. The stupid man walked behind Claire and placed a hand on Claire's left shoulder, trying to rub her.

_Bad mistake buddy…_

Claire immediately turned towards the arm, pushed it away with her left arm, and broke the man's nose from a right hand palm strike. The man staggered back, stunned at what had happened. It took some time for the man's drunken brain to register. After about a second of stunned silence, the man covered his bloody nose with his hands and started to scream in agony, and then he fainted. Apparently, the man faints at the sight of blood. All attention in the bar turned towards the group of men and Claire.

Claire got out from her seat and glared at the men with rage in her eyes. "I don't like to be touched," Claire growled.

Apparently, the other men didn't appreciate someone hurting one of their friends. The one that talked to Claire tried to slap her. Claire blocked the slap with her left hand and followed with an uppercut to the man's stomach. She didn't stop there: she then strike the man's throat with a thrust, between her forefinger and her thumb. The man couldn't breathe; he grabbed his throat with both hands and collapsed onto the floor, flailing like a fish on dry land.

One of men that were still standing flanked Claire. He managed to grab both of Claire's hands and restrained them behind her.

"You bitch!" The man yelled, "You pay for that!"

Claire wasn't worried; she has something that the men don't have.

Someone tapped the shoulder of the man that restrained Claire. The man turned around and he got a face full of fist. The man let go of Claire and fell unconscious from the blow.

_I have a lethal Marine trained in Martial Arts as a body guard…_Claire thought.

John Ramirez cracked his knuckles as he walked past Claire and stood in front of her.

"/If you want to fight…/" John said to the remaining men, "/Fight me instead…leave the woman alone./" He then assumed a fighting stance and his toes clenched inside his shoes.

The two remaining men didn't wait for another invitation. One of the men threw a punch at John, but John easily blocked by pushing the punch to the side with his right arm. The other man then threw his own punch, which was blocked nonetheless. Then two men decided to attack at the same time. John just leaned backwards, his back at 45 degrees. That caused a collection of gasps throughout the bar; even Claire had her mouth slightly agape from the amazement.

John used his left arm to push the men's punches to the side. He then went back up, took a spinning step forward, and backhanded one of the men. One of the men went down for a brief second. John dashed towards the other man, ducked the man's swinging kick, and pulled up the drunk's right leg, causing him to fall towards the ground. While still holding the man's foot in his left hand, John punched at the man's crotch, and then he grabbed the man's other foot. He lifted the man about two feet into the air and slammed him back into the ground. The move looked something from a Wrestling match. The man went unconscious from the impact.

The man that couldn't breathe from Claire's attack recovered. He grabbed one of the pool cues. The man ran and swung the cue like a baseball bat at John's head. John caught the top section of the cue in the open palm of his right hand, and jerked it away from the attacker. John twirled the pool cue like a staff and held it with both hands in a battle ready position. The man then reached for something at his belt, and pulled out a revolver. It was rusty and unclean from neglect. John swung the cue at the pointed gun, and the revolver actually broke in two places: the barrel and the hammer were broken off. John then swung the cue at the man's right knee. As the man instinctively brought up his knee, John then brought down the cue at the men's neck on the left side. The man went down and stayed down.

The man that John backhanded got back up and took out a knife. He then charged at John with the knife poised and ready to strike. John then turned on his heels and ran towards a wall with the man chasing after him. Once John was at the wall, he still continue to run, and—with untold litheness—started to do a wall run, even put a step on the low ceiling. John kicked off the ceiling and landed behind his attacker. While the man was still flabbergasted, John took a step with his right foot forward and swung the back end of the cue at the man's face. The man staggered back. John took another step forward with his left foot and swung the other end of the cue, once again striking the man's face. For a final time, John stepped forward with his right foot and swung the back end of the cue. The man was thrown off his feet and fell to his right. The man was trying to get back up, but John was already on top of him. Instead of beating the man into a pulp, John pressed his fingers firmly into the man's solar plexus. The man fell back onto the ground, unable to move for now.

John got back up and scanned the bar and saw that all five men were down. He put the cue down and looked around the bar, seeing the damage that they created. Some smashed chairs, tables, glasses, and dirty foot prints on the wall and ceiling. John then walked to the bartender. The bartender backed away in fear.

John reached for the wallet in his pocket and took out a large wad of bills. He placed them on the counter. "/I'm sorry for the mess, I hope this is enough for the damages,/'" John apologize.

He and Claire left the bar with the police coming towards the scene. They quickly blended into the crowds and eluded the police.

"Claire, are you alright?" John asked, worried.

Claire brushed her left shoulder, a gesture of dismissive. "I could've handled them," Claire replied. When she looked at John, she saw that he looked…disappointed…sad? "However…you did help…so…thanks."

John seemed to smile when he heard that.

Claire was still amazed by John's performance. "How did you do all that?" Claire asked.

John looked at her and cracked a smile. "I had a…very talented sensei," John replied, "Now let's get back to the Warehouse, we have Alejandro's assistant's location, and we have some competition to beat."


	9. Takedown Pt 1

A/N: Greetings, it's been a long time, hasn't it? I'm terribly sorry for not updating for while; school and life pretty much hectic, especially my AP Class. Well, i finally found some time to write at least one chapter for now. To be honest, this chapter was supposed to be A LOT longer, however the amount of pages seemed too much to put in one post. Therefore, i decided to split this part at least into two parts. Also, if there's someone with the time, i am...asking if there's a beta reader that might be in service. If there's not, then that's fine. So, without further ado, here's Chapter 9 of Tale of a Savior.

* * *

"Ghost, the plates are a match," MacTavish informed via radio.

It was almost noon the next day. Inside a car, John cradled his ACOG scoped ACR with an under-barrel grenade launcher. Attached to his utility belt were a combat tomahawk and a tactical combat knife. In addition, he still had a spare knife in his boot. On his back was a M1014 semi-automatic shotgun, mostly used for up-close-and-personal combat. To reduce the risk of collateral damage, John used 12gauge slug ammunition for the shotgun. There were four grenades and four flash-bangs hanging on John's belt. Sitting beside him was Captain MacTavish, armed with a M4 Carbine with an under-barrel grenade launcher. Roach was sitting in the passenger's seat, armed with the same weapons John has. Their driver…named Driver was busy tailing the white van that John identified yesterday. The African-American had a UMP submachine gun hanging on his side. They all wore Kevlar armor with ammo pouches on top of their clothing. Their Kevlar armor was an experimental variant called Wolf Spider. In addition to the Kevlar vest, it was laminated by multiple layers of different materials; the first layer was a thin ceramic plate, then a layer of tightly woven and dense synthetic spider silk, followed by a second layer of ceramic plating and spider silk respectively, then a layer of ballistic gel, and finally the Kevlar Vest itself. The ballistic gel is added to absorb the shock from a direct impact. In addition, each ceramic and synthetic spider silk layer is composed of hexagon patterns, and each hexagon piece partially overlaps the pieces on the layer underneath. Therefore, the shock of a direct impact is spread throughout the entire vest instead of a single area, and thanks to the ballistic gel, the shock would not hinder the soldier's performance. Even though its outward appearance looked the same as the standard Vest and ceramic plates, the Wolf Spider armor was significantly lighter. These new modifications are insured to increase the soldier's survival chance by 70-75%.

However….it has a lifespan of 150 shots…and that's already pushing a soldier's luck too far…

"Copy. Any sign of Rojas' right hand man?" Ghost asked.

"Negative. They've stopped twice already. No sign of him."

They've followed the white van for at least twenty minutes, so far they haven't seen Roja's assistant, yet. Their targets stopped once at a gas station and once at a bar. John gave a frustrated groan; he was starting to doubt that this would work. John then adjusted his S.A.R.H. helmet and turned on its camera. The car's AC felt cool on John's sweat covered face.

_I really hope I didn't screw this up…_John hoped.

Then, the white van slowed to a stop right at the driveway of the Hotel Rio.

"Wait, they've stopped again. Standby," MacTavish informed.

Then, the two men that John saw at the bar exited the van and headed towards the front door of the hotel. The men seemed like they didn't care if they would cause uproar; they were already holstering AK-47 assault rifles. AK-47's were cheap—especially the old models—but they are reliable in harsh conditions and they don't jam as much.

_Oh crap…this is going to turn ugly…_Roach realized.

"Wait, they've stopped again. Standby," MacTavish ordered.

The men seemed to yell at someone at the door, but they couldn't hear it from the car. Then, a Brazilian man that matches the photo of the assistant walked out, with his hands up. He then walked up to the armed men, trying to find out what's going on.

"Got a positive ID!" MacTavish yelled through the radio. Then, he realized something; these armed militia troops aren't here for a peaceful conversation. "Whoever these guys are, they're not happy to see him..."

Then the assistant reached for something at his belt. He drew out a Desert Eagle handgun and fired at the chest of one of the men. Before the other man could react, the assistant fired at the man's forehead. At the back of the man's head a cloud of pink formed from the exit wound. The driver got out of the van and snuck around the back of the van. However, the assistant saw him and fired two shots at the driver, one at the heart and the throat.

_Oh shit!_ All four men exclaimed in their minds.

MacTavish frantically reached for his radio and yelled, "Ghost, we have a situation here!"

After scanning the bodies before him, the assistant then looked up and looked to his left. He stared directly at MacTavish's car.

"Uhh…is he looking at us?" Roach asked, despite the answer extremely obvious.

They all flinched as two bullets shattered the windshield, showering them with shards of glass.

"_Get down, get down!"_ MacTavish screamed.

John felt the Captain tackle him to the floor of the car. They heard a few more shots, and then a wet_ "shliick!"_ sound. Soon followed, the car's horn blared non-stopped.

John and MacTavish feared the worst…

Once the two got up, they saw the front dash-board covered in blood and brain matter. They saw Roach and Driver lying against the dashboard, both covered in pieces of skull, blood, and brain. Thankfully, Roach stirred in his position and sat up. He looked at his hands and saw they were covered in the crimson blood, and so were his clothes.

"Holy shit…" Roach whispered. He then looked at Driver and saw that he wasn't moving. "Oh no…"

Together with John, they managed to pull Driver back against the driver's seat.

What they saw….was horrifying…

Driver…was no longer recognizable…his face literally shattered by the impact of the gas-powered slug. His jaw was hanging limply from its one remaining joint, his eyes lying on top of the dashboard. There was a continuous flow of blood from Driver's shattered face.

Roach and John almost heaved at the sight, but now wasn't the time.

"_He's getting away!_" MacTavish yelled. He opened the door and exited the car. He waved at the two to get out. "_Roach, Savior, let's go, let's go!"_

Roach quickly got up and exited the passenger compartment. John, however, stayed for a few minutes in the car. He reached for something on Driver's neck. He felt a chain, and he gave a small tug. In John's hand was Driver's dogtags. They all knew if they were killed in action, there's a chance that their bodies won't be shipped home right away…or not at all. John figured it will at least give Driver's family something to bury in his funeral…

And maybe some peace-of-mind…

John clenched the chain in his hands, tears threatening to pour out of his eyes. He finally regained his composure and placed the tags in one of his cargo pockets. He opened the door in the back seat compartments and joined with MacTavish and Roach.

"Ghost, our driver's dead! We're on foot!" MacTavish yelled into the radio. "Meet us at the Hotel Rio and cut him off if you can!"

"Roger! I'm on my way!" Ghost replied through the radio.

The men turned around the corner and chaos ensued. They saw people running away from the gunshots, screaming, trying to find a place to hide. John saw a man slumped against a taxi cab with a dark red/purple stain on his shoulder. John wanted to stop and help the man, but the mission came first. Eventually, the men saw Ghost, Royce, Meat, and Claire sprinting from the road on their left.

Ghost managed to see the assistant take a turn in an alley.

"_He went into the alley!" _Ghost yelled.

"_Non-lethal takedowns, only!" _Mactavish barked, "_We need him alive!_"

Roach and John ran past the rest of the squad and chased after Roja's assistant. Out of everyone else besides John, Roach's adrenaline surge was the most…potent, more powerful than the rest of the squad.

Roach crossed the street and entered they alley. John was behind him until a car screeched to a stop in front of the alley. John kept on running, and when he was at the hood of the car, he jumped and slid across the hood. He slid to the other side and continued his chase with Roach.

"_Roach—take the shot!_" John yelled. "_Go for his leg!"_

He then heard a gunshot echoing throughout the alley. Once John reached the source of the shot, he saw Roja's assistant on the ground, howling in pain and clutching his leg. A small pool of blood was surrounding him. John then saw Roach standing over the man, the barrel of his gun smoking.

"He's down…" Roach growled. He then proceeded to kick the downed man at his stomach. "That is for Driver…you fucking bastard."

John glared at the assistant with the same rage. He walked to him and proceeded to kick the man between the legs. John's steel-toed boot made _sure_ it hurts like hell.

Soon, the rest of the squad caught up with them. Meat and Royce went to the down assistant and grab a hold of him. Then they took him to a nearby garage for interrogation. Meanwhile, MacTavish and Ghost walk besides Meat and Royce, carrying a low-voltage car battery and jump starter cables. Last of all, Claire jogged to a stop in front of John and Roach. For some reason unknown to the two men, Claire was the only one that was panting, out of breath.

Between pants, she asked, "How the…hell…can you guys…run so fast?"

It left John in a stupor for a few seconds, but then he realized why. He then proceeded to smack himself at the forehead. _Aw geez…I forgot to tell her about the Adrenaline Surge…_

"I'll explain later when the mission's done," John replied.

Meanwhile, Roach then felt his spine go cold as the adrenaline wore off. Then, he began to smell a rancid and putrid odor. He then felt patches of his vest sticky and wet. He finally noticed his hands sticky and covered in crimson liquid and gelatin composed matter.

Once Roach finally remembered what he was covered in, he heaved…

* * *

Roja's assistant was bound to a chair with his arms tied together with zip-ties behind. He was inside a local garage. He struggled to get free, but it was futile and the bandaged gun-shot wound to the leg didn't help much. He then looked up and saw Ghost turn on the car-battery and let the two ends of the jump-starter cables touch, and a spark jumped between them. The 1st Lieutenant turned around with a cable in each hand, a small upwards crease on his skull patterned balaclava. When the assistant saw Ghost, his face paled and…Ghost could swear he saw a huge wet stain at the front of the assistant's pants and a dark brown stain on the back of the pants.

"Alright Roach, this will take some time," MacTavish said, kneeling underneath the garage door. "Go with Meat, Royce, Claire, and Savior and check out the favela for any sign of Rojas—that's where this guy was headed."

Roach gave a brisk nod while he replied, "Yes, sir!"

MacTavish returned the brisk nod and then he pulled the garage door down. Before the squad could leave to start their search, they heard a zap from inside the garage, which soon followed by a scream of agony.

It was clear what was happening inside to the squad, as each of them had the same thoughts:

_Based on his grin…Ghost might be enjoying this…_

The squad checked their weapons and gear before they go on their new objective. John's and Roach's ACRs are fully functional with ACOG sights, dual magazines—cartridges that were taped together oppositely side-to-side, under-barreled M203 grenade launchers. Meat's Mp5k submachine gun was customized with a red-dot sight and dual extended magazines. Royce's weapon was a M4 Colt Commando with Reflexive sight, extended magazines, and an under barreled M203 grenade launcher. Claire's weapon of choice was a heavily customized M4 Colt Commando. It had a piston-charged system, which reduces the number of moving parts and improves stability. It has a heavier barrel to reduce warping and erosion. The grip was ambidexterity; the weapon can be used for both left and right handed users with equal performance. The Commando even used a new type of ammo: the M855A1. It has a higher velocity and it requires no yaw and pitch. When it hits a target, they are going down. It's even environmental friendly to boot. Also, it has a new version of the Masterkey under-barrel shotgun accessory: the M26 Modular Accessory Shotgun System, or MASS. It is a militarized version of the Lightweight Shotgun System. It has a 12 gauge caliber, a straight pull bolt-action operation, a 3-5 round detachable magazine, and could fire 2.75 and 3 inch lethal, non-lethal, and breaching rounds. Other modifications include a Red-Dot Reflex sight and dual extended magazines. Royce and John stared at Claire's rifle with a sense of jealousy.

_I bet it was courtesy of her father…_John thought. _But…the ACR's accuracy is beyond that of the M4, so it doesn't matter._

"All right, let's go," Royce ordered. Despite Roach and Royce being the same rank, Royce had a longer experience of being Sergeant. So naturally, they picked him to be squad leader. As the squad ran up the stairs that led to the Favela, Royce added, "Remember, there are civilians in the Favela, watch your fire out there."

Soon, they reached a fence with a hole thru it that led a small drop that led into the favela. There was one problem: there were civilians everywhere.

"Dammit…a lot of civvies, guys," John stated.

"We got to reduce the chances of collateral damage," Claire added. "Any ideas?"

Royce thought of it for a brief second, then he looked at Meat and ordered, "Meat, get these civvies out of here."

Meat nodded and pulled the charging lever of the Mp5k. "Roger that," Meat replied. He then pass thru the gap in the fence and dropped down to the lower village. Once the dust settled around Meat's feet, the civilians looked at him with confusion and fear. "/_Everyone get the fuck out_!/" Meat screamed in Portuguese as he fired a few rounds into the air.

This caused the civilians to panic and seek shelter. In a way, Meat's plan worked, but it did have some repercussions. Not only did it send the civilians away, but it also caused the Militia to enter.

Knowing that a fight's inevitable, the rest of the squad armed their weapons and dropped into the Favela. They soon took cover behind a set of broken, rusted car frames and fired at the enemy Militia.

It was now a full out war…

"Bravo Six, be advised—we've engaged enemy militia at the lower village!" Royce yelled into his radio. He saw the silhouettes of at least three Militia troops in a small concrete shanty house. He took out a grenade and primed it. He then threw it in an arc through the shanty house's single window. Soon, the grenade exploded, painting the walls with crimson blood and gore. Royce then turned to Roach and added, "Roach! I'm with you! Watch the rooftops! Go!"

Roach nodded and took a quick look above the car wreckage. From that split-second out of cover he saw two paths of opportunity. There was a path on the left, which leads through some shanty houses and directly to the center of the lower village. In addition, there was a path to the right which goes around the lower village on the right side and leads to the path to the upper village.

"Royce, you and I will take the path on the right!" Roach ordered. He then faced the other three and added, "The rest of you take the path on the left! Let's go!" With that said, Roach provided suppressing fire for Royce and they fought they way through.

Claire saw a couple of militia troops running over improvised bridges from a second story window and taking cover behind obstacles on the rooftops of the houses. She popped out of cover for a split second and opened fire at the troops. The new bullets that she used were able to pierce through the obstacles and hitting the militia behind them. Soon enough, Claire saw their lifeless bodies falling from the rooftops and land at the ground below them.

John popped out of cover to fire a quick burst at a militia trooper inside a concrete shanty house. One of the bullets caught the man at the throat, causing him to spray the walls with his blood. John reloaded his rifle and looked at Meat and Claire. "Guys, I'll make a beeline for that shanty house; I need some covering fire!"

Both Claire and Meat nodded in response. At the same time, they popped out of cover and fired bursts at the insurgents. This in turn caused a vast amount of militia troops to duck behind cover. John then used this opportunity to make a run for the shanty house. He made beeline towards the house and vaulted over its one window. He then braced himself against a wall that connected to a corner of a hallway. Thinking that a militia trooper will appear, John switched his ACR for the M1014 shotgun. His patience paid off, as a militia trooper with a RPD Light Machine Gun ran by him, oblivious. John raised his shotgun and fired at the trooper's skull at close range. The resulting impact caused the 12 gauge slug to penetrate the enemy's skull and exit through the other side, creating a purplish-pink cloud. After checking if the house was secured and cleared of any enemy militia, John then switched back to his ACR and ran to the window he vaulted over.

"I got you guys covered!" John yelled at Meat and Claire. "Make a beeline to the window!" The other two nodded as a response. John laid down cover fire as Claire and Meat made a beeline to the same window. Once they were all inside, the three of them took places at the side door, kitchen window, and front door respectively.

On the radio, Captain MacTavish ordered, "Royce, gimme a sitrep, over!/"

Royce's voice crackled in response. "Lots of militia but no sign of Rojas over here, over!"

"Copy that! Keep searching! Let me know if you see him! Out!"

In the radio's background, there were distinct retorts of gunfire as Royce ordered to Roach, "Roach! Move up! Let's go!"

John looked out the window for a second and saw a group of militia hiding inside a tin-sheet home. He loaded a grenade into his M203 launcher, aimed, and fired at the tin-sheet home. The resulting explosion created a gaping hole in the side of the house, with the militia troops that were standing behind that wall all dead on the floor. As John reloaded the launcher, he saw a small ball smash through the window and land in the kitchen sink. As he turned around and get a better look at the object, his eyes widen in fear. In the sink was a hand grenade.

With all his might, John screamed, "_Grenade, get down!"_

Meat heard him and jumped inside a closet. Claire, however, acted a bit slow to the warning. Before she could get to cover, John tackled her to the ground and he kicked the thick dining table to its side, the top of the table protecting them from the blast.

_I hope this works…_John prayed in his mind.

The grenade soon detonated, leaving a ringing noise in both John's and Claire's ears. However, this was a good sign, which tells them that they're alive. John looked up and looked to his side. He saw that the thick dining table mostly survived, but there were portions of the table that was shredded and splinted by the grenade's explosion. He smiled in relief that his plan actually worked. Meat, fortunately, endured the blast unscathed and walked out of the closet.

"Ramirez, could you get off of me?" Claire asked; his body still on top of her own.

John looked down and saw the awkward position that they were in. His face flushed, but then he saw something that hanged on a bead-chain around her neck. It was a stainless steel four leaf clover pendant about the size of a single dog tag. He wondered why she has it, but he kept his curiosity to himself.

"Sorry," John apologized, getting off of her and pulling her up on her feet.

Claire then looked at John's left arm and pointed at it. "You're bleeding," Claire informed John

John looked at his arm and found out that it was true. There was a small patch of blood that soaked into the sleeve of his shirt. He rolled up his sleeve to see what the damage was. Fortunately, it was just a splinter that pierced through the flesh only, so it was a shallow wound. John pulled out the splinter and tossed it to the ground. "It's only a flesh wound," John said.

Claire just shrugged it off and reloaded her rifle. "Let's move on," Claire ordered. Both John and Meat nodded in response. Together, the exited the house and took cover behind the wall of another tin-sheet home before rounding another corner.

Meat looked beyond the corner and observed that they were at the center of the lower village. It was practically a circular clearing with shanty-houses and tin-sheet shacks surrounding the clearing and it had multiple paths that led to the base of a hill and to the path that leads to the upper village. He then saw multiple militia troops hiding in those houses and on the rooftops of those houses. Before he could open fire, a large mass of civilians ran into his line of fire, trying to seek cover. Meat held his fire, but he saw a collection of oil barrels that were between two groups of militia troops. His face grinned when the idea came into his mind. Once the civilians were out of his line of fire _and_ away from the projected blast zone, Meat opened fire on the barrels, catching one on fire before he went into cover as Militia troops fired upon him. Thankfully, sparks from the fire of the first barrel soon ignited the rest of the barrels, and soon enough they all exploded, killing about ten militia troops and wounding several other troops that were in the blast radius.

Meat looked beyond the corner and saw the destruction his plan created. He grinned from ear to ear. "I can't believe that work!" Meat exclaimed, in a thrilled voice. However, that all soon changed as a sniper perched in a two story balcony shot Meat directly at his chest. Meat was thrown back and landed on his back.

John saw him take the shot and immediately panic filled into his being. He pressed the PTT button on his radio and yelled a phrase that no one dared to hear.

"_Meat is down! I repeat: Meat is down!"_


End file.
